he lied, Poem

They took me the kid round the friends of the family
Do we have to go?
Just to say hello,
 blondish woman in the 6os in a good part of Kilburn in a flat they saved up for, loved him once, love him still.

"are you angry"?

have

 i ever been?

says the homosexual

uncomeout husband

reading the paper

 with those heavy rimmed glasses made only with scandanavian baggy jumper

 not made now

for reasons of antipatic

"no but you been distant"She says, back to him , knowing the corn hole 

king

"distant? ha that's cos I'm bitching mad"

He lies ripping the page over on the way he ripped her against ideal.

why

why

why she drearily says back to him lighting fag.

"well, cos"he responds and she responds

"it sounds more serious, doesn't it"

what

does he says but now concerned

"Start sending me multiple choice lies, all i do is bubble in, none of the 

above anyway

1. are you angry cos you suck dick too much

2. are you angry because inspiration has gone

3. are you angry because you cant pack a pair of balls in your jeans

4. are you angry because you didnt read my latest poem

beloved"

"I did too read your beloved poem,

it was in my mailbox and on the public toilet wall remember"

yeh

now I do

"no, not

none of the above

i just can't be with you that much right now"he says worried.

are you gonna send me an ass shot now of your "boyfriend"

what?

do you want to show some nice shots of him

yes?

no
don't disgust me he replies throwing down the paper

youve changed she says

not that 
I know of, 'Im just older maybe and have less time for garbage sex talk

my life and those that surround me have also changed, that happens you know

fuckin ell you used to love it if i gave you

what a shame

maybe i just lost my sense of humor, 

maybe I turned into my mother after all... there's a frightening thought

yeh scarey

maybe i've been writing too much about death lately

who knows

yeh best send

what?

the wishes from my deathbed

should i ever die?

why

dont you wanna send anything

all my last wishes would pile up to infinity 

but after I go I'll have the death volumes in your inbox, just for you OK?

Are you being funny?

Outside Sunday before the deluge 1965 kilburn,

the nice part, coldish weather grey sky the end of Autumn.