She was possessed of a creeping sexuality which
slowly unmasked the innocent – this mysterious
woman I met while travelling to Fortopollathrills,
that newly-discovered island with connections to a canary.

I listened entranced as she reminisced about her studies
at a revered university I’d never heard of,
where she was nicknamed Mathematical Millicent.

But she look perplexed when I quipped, ‘We can count on you!’

I explained the weak joke, and she said,
‘Subterranean creatures don’t do irony,’
and I wondered what she meant.

As we strolled through the town I gazed at her mouth,
smothered in sparkling ‘lippy’, and she smiled when
I wiped Guinness froth from her lips,
but the romantic moment passed when the band came on
and I tried to impress her by swivelling my hips.

But all she said was, ‘I was dancing champion of
the unknown country of Portmacadoo, so I’m not impressed,’
then did another tantalising move, asking, ‘Why can’t you do this?’

I responded with, ‘I don’t think I’d look good in a dress.’

Then a tall, handsome Spaniard took her onto the dance floor,
and all the men’s heads turned at glimpses of
her well-proportioned calf muscles,
causing a mini-riot, quickly subdued by the bouncer,
a retired former cockney clown known as Cuddly Chuckles

Later as we strolled by the shore, Millie suddenly jumped in the sea,
eager to stroke a seal, a cute creature which, in my alcohol-induced imagination,
bore a remarkable resemblance to her.

Alas, as the little mammal disappeared into the watery depths,
I concluded, we can’t always have what we want,
and I was left wondering if Mathematical Millicent would reappear.

So now, after therapy which has controlled my schizophrenia,
I’ve left my life as an island-hopping hippy.

I bought a boat with a transparent bottom,
through which I point out the myriad types of
fish in this part of the ocean.

My psychiatrist said, ‘Your vessel reveals
wonders nearly as unique as those in your mind,
surpassing ones displayed by those creative geniuses
James Joyce and Albert Einstein,
whom I firmly believe were on the autistic spectrum.’

Gosh, to think I was paying him for that tripe.
Anyway the medication he prescribed means
I’ve forgotten about the woman with the sparkling ‘lippy’,
who has disappeared into the volcanic earth,
along with that newly-discovered island of Fortopollathrills.

And when I dream of Millie who disappeared into the surf,
I get a dig in the ribs from the missus,
who asks, ‘Have you taken your pills?’