GOD’S GIFT

Remember that woman?

What was her name again?

You met her in the pub.

She was gorgeous.

How, in the name of Bacchus,

did you pull a stunner like that?

The one you said

made your heart stop,

flip, do pirouettes.

Drunk on love.

She would ride you like there was no tomorrow,

held you up when the mates weren’t there,

cooked your favourite dish

without you asking.

She shagged you so much

you slept all day.

Woke you up

for the night shift.

Gave you grog money

when you were short.

*

Remember that woman?

What was her name again?

She was beautiful.

Bought a round for the mates.

How, in the name of Dionysus,

did you lose a stunner like that?

The one you cry about

when you’ve had the final Shandy – half tears, half beer.

Sobbing

when

you are the last to leave

the lock-in.

All you had to do

was say ‘I love you’

without

a drink in your hand.

*

Do you wonder where she is now?

If she’s OK?

Sober?

What she’s doing tomorrow?

Of course she’s alright.

Clever, sexy, generous,

teetotal

good-looking woman like that.

You?

Not so much.

Remember that woman?

What was her name, number and address again?

I’m asking for a friend.

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