They’re at it again
after Philip Larkin
They’re at it again. I hear it all:
His vinegar strokes, her banshee howl;
Arrivals. I curse these piss poor walls,
This immediacy, common as vowels,
The overstated. I am rock hard
But too glum to sort my aching balls.
I refuse to take it lying down;
I plot my betrayal in the dark.
I’ll reverse my not getting any frown,
With this necessary evil, my new lark.
I have no desire for him to know:
We will. I’ll bump into her in town
When she’s out with work one night.
I’ll thrive on what we have in common,
Name drop authors, bands, suggest a bite
To eat. We’ll laugh about how stubborn
He is, how narrow. I love her. It’s not revenge
For these unwanted small hour hard ons.