First Impressions

That printed photograph of you
in leotard astride the gym -
if not quite false was hardly true,
suggesting someone fit and slim

enjoying life and working out-
no sign of flab or thick-rimmed specs;
no sign of tiredness or doubt
behind that promised hint of sex.

Your adoration knew no bounds
and sugared me with winning smiles;
in fairness though I gave you grounds
to think me flush with minted piles:

that mansion flat by Richmond bridge
with stucco walls and fleur-de-lis-
it wasn't mine, I wasn't rich,
despite the wine and gallantry.

But so what if sycophantic guise
pretended we were god and goddess:
uncoil my tongue, believe my lies;
for one more shining day be spotless.