Walking to our respective graves
In superb weather,
I trailed a young duke across Green Park.
The trousers made some difference. All the same,
The conclusion to which I came
Was either rich or stark:
By the way his hands were locked together
I knew we were both slaves.
Send Letters To:
London Review of Books,
28 Little Russell Street
London, WC1A 2HN
Please include name, address, and a telephone number.