Cassie and Gerald.

As Gerald wasn't often late,
Cass left his dinner on the plate.
But then, she saw the scribbled note.
"I need to find myself," he wrote.

"I've met this girl - she's young and free,
And sexy, like you used to be.
She howls at all my feeble japes,
And loves my precious Hendrix tapes.

We're flying south to watch the stars,
To live in cafes, beaches, bars,
And stroll together on the sand.
You simply wouldn't understand."

But Cassie understood his schemes:
She also had romantic dreams
Of sultry foreign shores; some place
Far from normality's embrace.

Yes, Cassie fumed that night 'til late,
And dreamed of what she'd amputate
With rusty knives, should Gerald dare
To ever show his face back there.

She trashed his suits in pointless rage,
And pored through every boring page
Of his diary, to gain some clue,
See what the swine had been up to.

She settled into solo life,
to play the role of sad, wronged wife.
Six months soon passed, and still she'd heard
Zilch, nothing - not one single word.

Then Gerald turned up on the mat,
All misty-eyed, admitting that
Young Tracey's tastes had proved too wild
For an aging, former flower child.

He'd feared she'd leave him, sooner or later.
In fact, she'd dropped him for some waiter
With smoother limbs and slicked-back hair,
With style, and energy to spare.

He'd trailed the couple to the shore
Where, by the ocean's throbbing roar
The waiter laid her on her back.
Stunned, Gerald staggered off to pack.

And so, he said in quivering voice,
He'd crawled back home - he had no choice.
He'd walk the dog, accept each chore,
Do two years' washing-up, or more.

So Cassie sighed, and let him back.
(But not without a warning smack
That shot the glasses from his head.)
Of course, she banned him from their bed.

She wasn't playing second string
To some cheap tart, he'd had his fling.
This sad arrangement stumbled on
for weeks, for months, but fooled no-one.

When Gerald turned the front-door lock
To find her note behind the clock
He gulped, he swore, his eyes grew dim.
Cass wouldn't do the same to him?

She couldn't live this way, she said:
Grim silence, tucked in separate beds.
Yes, Cass had packed her bags and flown,
To find a waiter of her own.