Sunday 10 January 2016

Crossed in Love




I met her at the over 80's trampolining class,
Her tatty leotard flapping loose around her tatty ass.
She was wrinkly, she was balding, though her dentures were divine,
And the moment that I saw her I just knew she would be mine.

She was smiling, quite beguiling, and she winked her rheumy eye,
The blue one, not the brown one, just to show she wasn’t shy
Nor backward coming forward when the flirting chips were down
So I dragged her off the trampoline and took her on the town

I took her down the chippy, stood her chips and curry sauce
While she told me how the trauma of her recent sad divorce
From a big shot city banker, big shot ego, big shot perks,
Had affected her emotions and had rendered her beserk

She had taken with the vapours, hyperventilating hourly
Beating wildly on her bosom, while reflecting, rather sourly
That her life of idle luxury and hedonistic indolence
Had imploded prematurely, when Big-Shot proved polygamous

 Her alimony settlement, she told me through her tears,
Would scarcely keep a gnat in beer, and in the coming years
She faced a life of deprivation, loneliness and squalor,
And shadowy, but disquieting, unimaginable horror.

I listened, disbelieving  as she told me of her fate,
Because, a big shot’s trophy wife, she very plainly ain’t.
All her tales of gracious living were quite obviously audacious
fabrications of her fertile mind, most lurid and salacious

Then she turned and looked towards me and my heart began to race
As the blue eye and the brown eye briefly focused on my face
In simultaneous unity, then in savage consternation
Each gazed upon the other one in mutual admiration.

My doubts of her veracity just vanished then and there,
'Cos if she was a lying sod, I really didn’t care,
For her independent eyeballs had entranced me beyond measure,
And my mind was filled with graphic thoughts of nights of sensual pleasure.

"Oh come with me my rosebud sweet, to you I will be true
I will restore your days of bliss and we will bill and coo
Like Romeo and Juliet or Tristan and Isolde
And I’ll order some Viagra in, for when I’m feeling old".

I took her to the Bingo Hall, our plighted troth to share
With all our geriatric friends, though no one seemed to care
A monkey’s for our future or about our celebration,
But stayed eyes down, tight lipped and tense in bingoed concentration.

My darlings eyes were roving, though I wasn’t sure quite where.
It was difficult to pinpoint, and I really didn’t care.
But then she said those words that tied my stomach in a knot,
“Don’t you think that little bingo caller’s really rather hot?”

 My darling bellowed “bingo" when he called out “legs eleven,”
Which left me feeling peeved because I only wanted seven.
She danced upon the table as the caller checked her claim,
Then flashed her boobs quite blatantly to show him she was game.

She was baggy she was saggy, she was all that I desired,
But she dumped me for the toyboy whose lusts she had inspired.
  Took her oscillating eyeballs and pledged them to another,
And left me unrequited, just another silly bugger.