Poetry: To His Coy Mistress; illuminated by the glow of the chippy at 3am
Words: Kate Lewin
If I was as honourable as I suspect you’re hoping
Then I wouldn’t really mind your aversion to my groping.
If I cared for more than just a night’s cold passion
Then hell, I’d sit and make it my mission
To compare you until you’re well beyond bored
To wondrous things I could never afford.
But at my back I can already hear
My mates are going to get more beer;
And I’m not that bothered either way
But we all know that your long lost virginity
Can no more be found in this neck of the woods.
Truth be told I’m desperate. And I’ve heard you’re good.
Whilst the affects of this alcoholic hue
Make you look a lot fitter than credit’s due,
And given your mates have left you alone
You’ve really no way of getting home –
So there’s little point in your half-arsed protest
Or your mutterings about being ‘just another conquest’.
My vegetable love is becoming firm
And its your cracking rack for which it yearns
Though in the morning I’d rather you left –
You’re a 5 pinter, a 4 pinter at best.