We have a foursome with our lawyers.
Suddenly the only thing on the table is us,
pelvises slamming like flung crockery.
'I just... want... an amicable... resolution,'
says my estranged wife
as we achieve mutual orgasm
again.
We decide to settle out of court,
on the landing of the house
we have failed to sell.
It smells strange, unlived-in,
shelves jankling with ornaments
we forgot we owned.
No comments:
Post a Comment