Savin' a Little Lovin' for Tomorrow

Zack and I ended up in Bastia, a port town, spending the night with a Corsican administrator, named Michele, whose apaprtment is neslted near the ruins of a catheral-turned-apaprtment building. Laundry on lines was strung everywhere and pipes ran together on the outside of the buildings of exposed brick and old stone. We rushed the next morning to my boat, which was cancelled (surprising? not quite), and spent the day wandering. We stood on the main round-about by the sea as traffic passed us in all directions. After a particular period of egregious romantic affection, an old man, slow and knowing, canes himself past us and says, "On en laisse un peu pour demain alors?!" (You gonna save some of that (meat/lovin') for tomorrow or what?) He walked on, cane tapping, smiling and apparently so pleased with young love.