Sometimes my longlost girlfriends come to haunt me.
They steal into my dreams, but never stay.
They just drop into to see if I’m still happy.
When I say “yes” they smile and fade away.

Rosie – cheekbones, legs, moved like a race horse,
county voice, a smouldering, sensual stare
is now a granny doing an OU course,
with dodgy hips and salt-and-pepper hair.

Maureen was more serious,more pedantic-
never missed a lecture, skipped a book.
She married Clyde, whose voice was transatlantic,
brought up four kids and never learned to cook.

Marylou, who failed her German oral
now lives in Dusseldorf with pudgy Heinz.
Meg the singer joined the Vicars Choral
and Sue, who never drank, is pulling pints.

I left romantic failure far behind me –
a broken hearted man with ego shrunk.
Refusing to allow lust to define me,
I gave up sex – and then became a monk.


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