Photocopy fantasies

I knew from the start
he was married.
Denial can be a powerful force
in photocopy fantasies.

Everyone said
that nothing will ever happen.
He'll never leave her,
never be mine.
But I knew I only had to wait

until he came to work
red rimmed and snappy
and stopped by my desk,
asked if I wanted to go for a drink.

He started kissing me in his car,
asked if I was really that thirsty.

So we got a room instead.

I'd dreamed of hearts and flowers.
He gave me a lumpy mattress
paid for by the hour.

I'd imagined the tenderness.
He cried out her name.

Yet it lasted,
for a while.

We'd sneak into the stationary cupboard,
take extra long lunch breaks.
He was the boss
who would complain?
who could refuse?

Then one day,
as he was getting dressed
after another lunch-time liaison,
he said
it was over.

It had been fun
a bit of a laugh.
Nothing serious.

He was going home to his wife.
They still had things to sort out
but
shrugs
they had to stay together for the kids.
He didn't expect me to understand.

I tied to hold back,
to leave with some self respect.

"But I love you!" I cried
and he looked at me
in disgust.

And left.
To his work
and his wife,
telling me to take a holiday
He'd clear it with management.

I resigned by post
never saying goodbye.
Queued in the job agency
as he began again.

Cried myself to sleep
as I wondered

if he'd ever called his wife
any of our names.