I would have phoned you
But what could I have said
Dear "daughter of the underground"
Do you remember how you molested me?
And how I was taught not to think
of anything that was not pure pleasure
or pure *******  - one and the same you might say
You think I am not lonely
If I wasn’t I couldn’t write this
I wouldn’t be here alone
Poetry would be unnecessary
It’s open nights in the ball park
and the change of you I live for

J. H. Webb