Marriage Not Into a School Mate

I could bet it isn’t fate That in love we aren’t great Don’t unions consummate Nor think we should be straight With our flirts, until it’s late … Preferably kissing them at Satan’s rate Our rendezvous, every front gate To tomorrow fix a fresh date Hours hurrying rather than wait But ten years later leave with hate … “Marriage, not to a school mate, Except for the satisfied with an old weight” The drama is an often-repeating bait.