Magenta was giggling. She had snuggled up quite close to Chongo, and had crossed one thigh over the other, a long, slender leg dangling flirtatiously through the slit in her green lacey skirt. Chongo's eyes were gazing, transfixed, at Magenta's elegant ankle, as he quietly whispered to her a poem by Kenneth Rexroyth...

There are sparkles of rain on the bright
Hair over your forehead;
Your eyes are wet and your lips
Wet and cold, your cheek rigid with cold.
Why have you stayed
Away so long, why have you only
Come to me late at night
After walking for hours in wind and rain?
Take off your dress and stockings;
Sit in the deep chair before the fire.
I will warm your feet in my hands;
I will warm your breasts and thighs with kisses.
I wish I could build a fire
In you that would never go out.
I wish I could be sure that deep in you
Was a magnet to draw you always home...