by Wendy Cope
In crumpled, bardic corduroy,
The poet took the stage
And read aloud his deathless verse,
Page by deathless page.
I gazed at him as though intent
On every word he said.
From time to time I’d close my eyes
And smile and nod my head.
He may have thought his every phrase
Sent shivers down my spine.
Perhaps I helped encourage him
To read till half past nine.
Don’t ask what it was all about—
I haven’t got a clue.
I spent a blissful evening, lost
In carnal thoughts of you.
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