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Thursday, August 19, 2010


Last week he'd contacted her anonymously through a dating website, requesting a recent photo "full length, wearing a really short dress, or panties and a t-shirt please" and inquiring whether or not she'd like to meet him for a drink on Saturday afternoon. "To emphasise my sincerity," he wrote, "I've included a poem that you may like to print off and bring with you. That way, if your photo doesn't arrive in time, I'll recognise you. I've named it 'Together' and dedicate it to you, and the relationship I hope we will forge." 

silence screams an awkward glance
over its shoulder 
to someone else who might be listening or
the voyeur behind the musty drapes.
we smell of those drapes 
we smell sadly of the stories with which they regale each prurient bedfellow
we benignly devour, with no ounce of passion, the answers to non-sequiters.
look under rugs of matted hair and insects for a trap door out of here.

She called out urgently to her flatmate. 
"Shelly, I need you to take a photo for me. And I won't be here Saturday night."