Gene, it’s been over for so long now,
but I still can’t forget
that grubby pub and you didn’t drink,
it was late one night,
February, I think
off the map somewhere near London.
reluctantly, I had a meeting early in the morning,
and when we got home, you took me for real.
I think that’s when I fell, so it closed the deal.
I moved in within a fortnight.
the sofa had seen better days.
Even so, early on you made me so happy,
made me think you were the one!
always being myself, no fake.
With hindsight I can only exclaim:
oh, brother was I wrong!
the fog going to the West Country?
in the football World Cup,
and I threw up?
Perhaps that one’s better forgotten?
You played in a cover band (was it REM)
and dj:ed on the week-ends.
Our nights were so hot, but it really couldn’t last
though I said that I loved you.
Well, shit happens.
remember that night
when I told you what your ex-wife said to me?
Or those e-mails I found on your computer
that, maybe, I shouldn’t see…
Do you remember that?
chicken carbonara that I ever had.
The chocolate covered macadamia nuts
that you got for us down on the corner…
and just ’cause I write this now:
don’t dare ask me back!
I will never ever forget,
not your daughter,
not your mother,
not the curls on your chest,
but I’ll never be sad that I left you!