Engrossed in their flirtatious play

They stand behind the bar.

The place is quiet for a summer’s evening.

I am near,  and yet so far away.

Soon I will be leaving

Him and her together.

 

I finish my pint and leave alone.

Later, at home, I think on Larkin,

And whether they sleep together.

Its not my affair

But the poet’s  indelicate question

Intrudes into my rhyme

Of lost youth and passing time.