Often, we elders, unemployed, bench-sit
Down at the paddle tennis court. We shmooze,
Watch the better games, and, often, enthuse
When stunning women display in outfits
Curved to their taut, trim bodies. I admit
Those visions stimulate, recall the cues
That once enlivened us, leave us bemused
By memories worn down by time’s grim grit.
When gorgeous Heather quit her job, gave up
The game and took her lovely flaming hair
To Texas—the style, the wit we worshipped,
Stolen by that lad—shocked, we all despaired.
We have probable cause, prepare to fight—
A suit (a slam dunk case—deprived of sight,
Damaged by the loss of our connection)
For alienation of affection!
(12/12/11)