in a wheelchair now, she's

a shadow of her history,

crippled us with lust in

the pomp of her mystery

to out-patients in my taxi,

whispers: "is it you Fred?"

of times when I loved her

immortal, not half-dead

dropped me for a broker

always cute and naughty,

oozed sex, a Lana Turner

mercenary and haughty

begs me to take her to bed,

purely for old ...

Read and leave comments (1)