I carried the old fashion gramophone,
she carried the records to the river.
We sat and I kissed her while listening
to 1959 records.
Let´s have a dip. Naked we swam in
the moonlit river that cleanses disgust.
Her armpits had the aroma of clover.
Started gramophone again, music back
then was so trite, lyrics boring and her
body looked enchanting in moonlight.
I threw the bloody music machine into
the river, she did ditto with the records.
We made love in stillness as trout waked
I regretted not having brought a fishing rod.
