My tiny little piece from the book of rubbish

[Henning]

I am not here and you're not there
we fooled the press
I am not after the blonde
and you don't prefer the Guinness

Let's say we had fun
like the band on the run
and we got no sleep
and we drank the wine

We owe Greg an apology
for not being perfect
there was no Greg in London
and perfection is a rumor

Let me cancel this poem
I know you are dialing
after a sigh or two
there's nothing but smiling