We lay at noon in bed;
       She turned and said,
‘What is it (tell the truth!) that you are thinking?’
Hoping, perhaps to fish a compliment,
Or hear me say that soon we’d best be wed.

I frowned and scratched my head;
       Then turned and said,
‘The condom split. A thousand smelts are jinking
Hell bent on reaching where we never meant.
So are you on the pill?’ Her cheek blushed red,

She reached across the bed
       To smack my head,
But playfully, then murmured, eyes wide, winking,
‘You think I’d trust man!  Now, are you spent?
Or might I raise this nag to thoroughbred?