©2012, Olan L. Smith

In college Cotton and his gal

Did it where they could

While in his car, in a bar,

In a fountain or on a mountain.

They made love in the bushes

In a temple [not quite so simple], in a lurch or in a church

They made love in a courtyard or in the graveyard—

She'd be downward bent when they did it in a tent.

Shagging on a bench during the ninth inning was a cinch;

They did it in a restaurant, the waiter was not remiss

When he asked, "What are you looking for, Young Miss?"

He felt a nibble when they did it on River Beach; thank God it was not a leech.

They did it behind the prayer room door on the library's second floor

And when finished she'd proudly march out the door.

At a museum she'd giggle walking around an exhibit's lance pushing down her pants

That's how they did it with no dough not so very long ago. 

(I wrote this poem after reading in a comment that young people couldn't find the privacy to make out.)