Beth Plays Pinball

If you see Beth in pants they’ll be tight pants
and she will look as good in them as out.

I see Beth in blue jeans with a thin book
somehow wedged part-way in a back pocket.

I say, “‘When Patrick Domostroy turned the
ignition key of his car, no sound came
from the engine and no lights showed on the
dashboard.’ That’s the part I wrote for that book.”

Beth laughs. “And it’s been all down hill since then.
If he really paid people to write this
he should have found better people to pay.”

“Once upon a time,” I say, “people thought
it was sexy, even pornographic.”

“That’s the only thing,” Beth says, “keeping me
reading it—laughing at all the bad sex.”

“That book stuck in your back pocket,” I say,
“is sexier than the sex in the book.”

“My pocket’s too small. When I walk,” Beth says,
“the book inches up, wiggles free, falls out.”

“It must get frustrating, having to stop
and reach down, pick it up, put it back in—”
I stop and point. Beth is blushing bright red.
“I think I win,” I say. “And that was fast.
I could have kept going a lot longer.”

“Want to get tea?” Beth asks. “Talking to you
is more fun than the sex scenes in this book.”

“Do you feel safe around me and caffeine?”

“If you get too frisky,” Beth says, “I can
beat you off with the book.” And Beth giggles.

“Oh-oh. Maybe you win. Come on. I want
to see what you’re like when you have caffeine.”