I could see I'd got it totally wrong

The minute I walked in the door,

She'd got her working lips on,

None of your soft yielding malarkey

For me today, unmoistened take it

Or leave it peck and they'd gone lips.

I hate times like these, not knowing

What I've done, or what to expect,

But whatever it was it was big, and

Likely to be good for hours, days,

Could go on for weeks, sometimes

longer than that. Silent treatment,

Noisy pottery, banging doors, full

Make-up, plunging neckline for the

Butcher, naked aggression for me.

Hard and parched cold inquisitor

'Don't pretend you don't know lips,'

'OK, hands up, what have I done or

Not done?' 'You don't know do you?'

Luckily, I have a magic money-clip,

We’re going out tonight for a bit of a do,

Full-trip, top hotel, top restaurant, limo

there and back. Works like a salve on

Working lips, softens 'em up a treat.

As for what had I done? Well, turns out

It didn’t matter.

© Joseph G Dawson