Separate Tables Poem by Jan Oskar Hansen

Separate tables

He came sat down like they should be old friends.
Do I know you, she said?
Yes, we were lovers once.
Long pause.
Yes, I remember, but you have gone fat and bald
I thought of you as an asshole.
You are a wrinkled old shrew, thought.
We had some fun, he said.
For you, it was,
You would let me touch your penis, said it was
Private property, she said.
My dear, it was a joke, he said
You are a pompous old bastard, she murmured for
No reason at all.
He stood up to give her a piece of his mind, but
The dinner bell rang.
They ate at separate tables.