Tuesday's Poetry Corner

Irony

He was a lousy lover.
Often, he would climax whilst still in his underpants.
Other times, he would plow on for hours, impervious to
his partner’s discomfort and disinterest.
He would shriek like a schoolgirl if his lover got
anywhere near his anus.
He would grunt “You done yet?”
Instead of foreplay, he would tell his partner to
“diddle yourself and call me when you’re sufficiently
lubricated for entry”.

But, he gave freely of his time and money to worthy and
noble causes.

He was a lousy lover.
And he was a great humanitarian.
And that’s irony.
I think.