Is it of arab princes that she dreams
while punching up the grocery bills,
or Lawrentian lovers, miner’s sons,
beating in time to he electronic drums?
Something must help her overcome
The dull madness of her hungry till.
Something must help her do her sums.

We saw each other through a film of prices –
her cheap perfume, my secret vices –
but a screen love, harassed and fantastic,
came between us and the yards of plastic.
The tear-off check-list rolled and interthreaded
A mutual madness much to our quick credit
– only for censors, or for me, to edit.