in Tognarelli’s coffee shop she sat & waited for her friend & cappuccino, red lips & nails, and beautiful to behold; handbag by the chair, white cotton gloves together folded spilling out. and our hero spies his chance and, chancing his arm, relieves her of her lace-trimmed favours and, cloakroom-hid, deflowers their delightful virgin folds then, daring all, stoops unseen amongst the throng and replaces them as before and settles to finish his espresso with a sigh and a cigarette.
