14 March 2013
On Monday The condom sat limply on the kerb by the road. It was beige and full. A headless packet lingered close by.
Was it love at first sight?
On Tuesday The condom had begun to turn grey and found itself near a wall. The packet had long since vanished; carried on the wind.
Did you hold each other all night?
On Wednesday The condom looked like a piece of rubber slate and rip had robbed it of its glory as it slumped in the middle of the pavement.
Will marry me when the time's right?
Today The condone is black, threadbare, a dick-shaped fossil kicked towards a drain.
Can you still see me naked in the light? Perhaps tomorrow, who knows, we'll have to see.
Condom • Opuss № I