The Dating Game

I brought a single yellow rose and placed it on the table
wishing I were moneyed, still, for then I would be able
to buy my love an evening of Parisian cuisine
and not a burger at MacDonalds where you don’t know where it’s been.

She turned up late, as well she would, and not alone, alas
I regretted eating gherkins – they had left me full of gas.
Six burly guys with Slavic accents crowded in the door
the customers all turned and stared – then turned and ate some more.

“I saw your ad in Brides-are-us” she said as she drew near;
“I want you for my wife,” she said. “I have the passport here.”
“Steady on,” I said,” This is the first time that we’ve met;
“I’m flattered by proposal but I’m not that smitten yet.”

She looked at me a little strange, as if I talked in Brummie
“You are the thirty-something with a baby in your tummy?”
“Oh no,” I said ,” You’ve pegged me for some religious blighter
I’m a forty-something demon kin who doubles as a writer.”

“The girl you want is over there, the blond one with the stroller
I saw her reading ‘Brides’ just now -- she drove up in a Roller
You’re not the one I’m waiting for – she’s just pulled up outside
I’ll just go out and head her off -- the burgers here are fried.”