both stood in a bar,
both far from happy,
both alone,
untill he spots her.
he likes her looks,
sweet arse,
smooth face.
he moves in,
with predatory skill.
he smiles as does she
they chat,
small strained talk,
pleasant yet pushy,
eager to find a connection.
talk of music
easy
talk of film, friends, and trends
easy
talk of work
he smirks
she looks uneasy.
he beams and tell her and the other hundred punters,
that
he
makes
complex
computer
systems
for
large
companies
she takes a big sip of he drink,
looks hopefully into his eyes,
and tells him,
that she cleans the train stations,
he nods his head,
makes his excuses
and leaves.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
This one is a 'hoot' Vincent, it's amazing how important 'class' is still. I presume that they both have 'systems' in common. Lavatory or otherwise! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! Sincerely Ernestine Northover