an opld lover remembered

An Old Lover Remembered.


On my walks, in the part of town that is neglected, where
streetlamps are so few that they can’t link light, I met my
old lover; she has a kiosk, sells fried chicken and fries,
soft drinks and cigarettes, since there are no other outlets
for these kind of things the poor and homeless, come here
for a bit to eat and socialize on the pavement outside her
business Years hadn’t been kind, her beautiful lips that
could do tricks were now a pale scar across her ashen face,
with dried up spittle, the colour of meerschaum- only seen
in secret coves- in the corners of her mouth, short cut hair
and her Atlantic green eyes had lost their lustre. No, time
had not been kind to us, if I kissed her now and she saw
my toothless gums, she would recoil in horror. Our sexual
exploit remembered is a poorer diet than her broilers.