Poem by James Mills
I see them
passing in the street,
chatting amongst themselves.
'Oh, ' I say
'You've put on weight.
I hardly know you.
You've changed since last we met.'
They prefer to go unrecognised
in public, and hurry on, clattering
onto buses, slipping into doorways.
I walk on, sighing.
They know I love them,
especially when they speak.
I don't worry, cos when we're alone
they say the sweetest things.
When we're on terms.
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