RONET & SEX. Sex is over rated, Ronet said, Le sexe est surestimé, He repeated.

His wife viewed him with amusement, She’d seen him in better days, Remembered him When he couldn’t get enough. He dressed in his usual clothes. The days of his flamboyancy had gone, The cravat long since Thrown in the bin With the beret. He knew she watched him, He could sense her eyes Crawl over him like snails, He saw her out of the corner Of his eyes, painting her nails. She thought sex under rated, Too much placed on virginity And purity, remembering her Mother’s lectures and the nuns Chirrping on about keeping Herself for the right man. Over rated, Ronet muttered

Buttoning his shirt, brushing Off flakes from his scalp, Seeing her apply red lipstick, The same toady features, The years having got to her. He had to tell her something. Sex was no fun with her, He fucked others now, The young whores, The young ones, The black haired girl With a squint was best, She knew his wants And desires. His wife Studied the way He brushed his hair, The strokes of the brush Going back and back, Over and over. He was a dud to her. They no longer mated. Yes, she said, Giving him a smile, Sex is over rated

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