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Commissioned Peoms

For Elaine

The first of my commissioned poems for someone I've never met. The price: one Guinness!


Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday are gone,
Thursday as well, so it won't be too long
Till the time when the week reaches its height
And Elaine's on the town - it's Friday night!

Every two minutes she's out of her seat,
There's no way she can control those dancing feet.
She's after the men, there's just no stopping
And with a forty inch bust she's got their eyes popping.

She puts on more lipstick, she's back on the floor,
She picks a fella and dances some more.
His wife has quickly become just an ex,
So she invites him home for coffee, but definitely no sex!

He finds an excuse, says he'll have to miss -
In reality he's knackered from Elaine's tongue twists.
So she finds the girls and tells them to hurry -
It's time to go home and she's dying for a curry.

She's got through three lipsticks and fifty odd Buds -
In her alcohol stream there's not too much blood.
So it's back to her international home with legs getting weak,
To her kitchen that's Spanish and her lounge that's Greek.

Back to the room that's far more exotic,
Where men dream of going, dreams usually erotic,
A room that's been perfected, almost since birth -
It's Elaine's main bedroom, Paradise on Earth.

Well, it's that time of year when numbers don't count,
It's how well you've lived them, not the amount.
So Christine's sent this message with one thing to say -
To a wonderful wonderful friend: "Happy Birthday!"

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