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Juan In Middle Age

by
 The appetite which leads him to her bed 
Is not unlike the lust of boys for cake 
Except he knows that after he has fed 
He'll suffer more than simple belly-ache.
He'll groan to think what others have to pay As price for his obsessive need to know That he's a champion still, though slightly grey, And both his skill and gameness clearly show.
And after this quick non-decision bout, As he in his dark corner gasping lies, He'll hear derision like a distant shout While kisses press like pennies on his eyes.

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