Middle-aged and mildly neurotic, Laurice has been re-arranging words since 1994, after attending art school in a misguided and unsuccessful attempt to ward off a mid-life crisis. She's earned money from at least six poems and several competitions, and has managed her emotional life without illegal self-medication, despite a brief stint as a life model. Early retirement enabled her to rise from committee member of the New Zealand Poetry Society to National Coordinator in charge of everything. Election to President occurred when no-one else wanted the job. Four adult children are proud of her achievements, her husband merely bemused.
Thirty Years Later
The first time we met I thought
your raised eyebrows insincere,
like you knew the moves to make
but weren't really listening.
Your (mostly) baldness highlighted
inadequate ears, upturned nose,
pointless moustache, pointy chin.
I wasn't attracted.