You grin at me <br />flirtatiously <br />in black and white. <br />Your hand sneaks <br />mischievously <br />inside the blouse <br />of the laughing blond <br />beside you. <br />The caption <br />(tossed off with flourish) <br />reads <br />'Tit-illating to be sure'. <br /> <br />Your body is lean, <br />your lips pursed, <br />your hair much too long. <br />(how you hated the seventies) <br /> <br />I close my eyes <br />and try <br />to picture you <br />at thirty two, <br />but it's difficult... <br /> <br />You see <br />I was too subsumed <br />by me, <br />too fond <br />of my own reflection. <br />Too keen <br />to please, <br />to 'strut like a favorite to applause'. <br /> <br />The car door slams. <br />You're back from the gym, <br />sweaty and full of life. <br />You peck my lips perfunctorily <br />and complain <br />about some 'idiot on the road'. <br /> <br />I re-read the title of this poem <br />with a smile.<br /><br />Alison Cassidy<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/god-i-wasted-thirty-years-of-you/
