I had a Chinese girlfriend once.
Her mother was an opera singer –
of the other kind.

She always seemed to get confused
between the heat of  loving and the stove,
stirring as I took her from behind.

How she got so naked I never understood.
Or kept on cooking, lemon, garlic
when I made her blind.

That was years ago
Now the Chinese girls don’t look at me.
An elderly gentleman I see them say,
with quick, diverting eyes.