Vincent, Possibly (Poetry)

It was one of those spur of the moment things
a fancy — a nibble — a bite
a curious linking without any strings
to satisfy base appetite

No one knew anything — him about me
and me even less about him
no planning — it happened spontaneously
due to wine ... plus the lighting was dim

It was hardly romantic — I can’t even claim
he was handsome or really my type
it seemed, looking back, we shared equal blame
simply plucking the fruit that was ripe

And when it was over I slid from the bed
I had borrowed and one that he shared
with a partner who wouldn’t be bothered he said
though his sigh gave a hint that he cared

I never clapped eyes on him ever again
I feel guilty (but only a bit)
it just bothers me I can’t remember his name
when he must have made mention of it