Carl Johann Spielter, German
“Listen Eloise, I Don’t Want You To Get the Wrong Idea About This Relationship. Just Because We’ve Been Married For 57 Years and Raised 9 Children Doesn’t Mean We’re a ‘Thing,'” Date Unknown
Oil on linen
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Artist info is pointed to in my comment at a prior blog entry.
// Many years ago, George Bernard Shaw
was so shy that from girls he’d withdraw.
Twenty-nine and a virgin
he gave in to the urgin’
of a widow who helped him unthaw.
/// Jenny then was a young thirty-seven.
She taught G.B.S. how to reach heaven.
Their affair had been splendid.
Decades after it ended,
they meet up for a breakfast in Devon.
/// She had followed him all over Britain.
Seen herself in each play he had written.
“Bernard, it seems to me
that I’m owed a large fee.”
He regretted he’d ever been smitten.
(The above story begins more or less accurately,
and then quickly veers into complete fiction.)
/// On his birthdays they had a tradition—
they had sex (not confined to coition).
He is eighty today
so she sat down to say,
“Here’s a no-no note from my physician.”
/// The vexed husband expressed his position
that she ought to respect their tradition.
And despite her condition
he expects her submission.
She replied, “You can go to Perdition!”
/// He refused to show any contrition.
(He’s superior and a patrician.)
But he did seek permission,
that he might proposition
their great-granddaughter’s pediatrician.
/// This man’s widow split open her head
when she ran from his coffin in dread.
Both now earthbound and haunting
one another with taunting.
(Neither knows that the other is dead.)