Poem Hunter
Time’s Up.
ST ( / )

Time’s Up.

Poem By Simmon Tan

Time was ticking frantically away as you ripped off your shirt and pulled off your pants whilst taking off your socks and looking cool at the same time.

The room was booked for an hour but ten minutes have already gone by.
It may sound like a lotta time to those who think of it as a wham, whirr, thank you sir, ten minutes, fifteen - twenty at the most but it’s not.
Especially when the night is hot.

Stripped off like a tiger, hurry up, hurry up, now, now; thinking a mixture of sexual thoughts.
Foreplay ten minutes. Oral, fifteen minutes. Do the job, five minutes. Cigarette two minutes. That should leave about...

BAM! The TV blew up. The lights went out.
Looked out of the window and the entire city was black with natural night.
The moon was off behind a cloud somewhere, feeling unwanted.

Buses stopped. Subways got stuck in the underground. All the car alarms in the city went off and stopped and went off again all by themselves.

And then there was silence. Don't know what happened next the radio wasn't working. The only thing that worked in spurts and starts was the air conditioner.

In thousands of hotel rooms all over the world, couples lay naked and bewildered, listening to but not understanding the sound of their air-conditioners coming on and going off.

Everybody was sweating because the night that God had chosen was especially hot.


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Comments (1)

I like this a lot. Complimenting your writing seems too much like saying the Pope is Catholic. But somehow I can't avoid wanting to do it anyway.