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for MP - 1984
By chance we met not knowing yet
what cosmic fate in store.
With cheese and wine and evening fine
beneath the scull and oar.
Caffeine surfeit (I'd misjudged it)
we talked into the night
While parting late we made a date -
next week we'd make a flight.
The weather's fine; I call your line -
machines now rule the phone!
You dial back and leave a track
on my magnetic drone.
Ah, we're no jerks! The system works.
"Sorry -"late"; but really not.
With neither clock nor schedule lock,
you're prompt right to the dot.
When sails are up, wine in the cup,
we reach South to the City.
The hazy morn, when first was born,
showed no promises this pretty.
"Oh 'Cats'" said she. "I'll leave the sea
at five for transformation."
"Oh rats!" said I. "I can't deny
the prospect's desolation."
But leave you did and thus I bid
bon soire to jolly crew.
I swept the decks and trashed the Becks
and polished up the loo.
Now if you'd like (no boat or bike)
to venture out together
I could reveal urbane appeal
in linen, silk and leather.
Five days are full (and that's no bull)
with playing the bread winner
But I can wait for another date
till next Monday night for dinner.
Will you join me?
(or Tues. or Weds. or ...)