Just a Little Wickedness

We were two young women, going away, on a train.
An express it was, with sleeper compartments for security.
Rolling sedately across the state in our train,
in our secure compartment,
we bubbled with excitement that had no outlet.
"We must do something, something" …
but what can women do, on a train?

Across the countryside, daylight faded,
while we burned incandescent with youth and energy.
So we stripped to our knickers, and we danced.
In our lighted compartment we danced
as the express slowed, but didn't stop
at people-littered platforms, and we waved in glee
at the staid and stolid citizens who'd never know us.

It was just a little wickedness,
and as the train moved again through darkened
countryside, we'd fall, breathless with laughing,
onto our bunks, recalling shocked faces,
and renewing vigour for the next station, the next dance.
It was just a little wickedness, but even a little
wickedness makes sweet memories.