"My Number's Up"

I got a week to fill up
Using annual leave from work
When I got a text from the hospital
Appointment forgotten like a berk.
First day off on Monday
Should be at home in bed
Here I am at Lewisham Hospital
Waiting for a blood test instead.
Nothing at al lto worry about
It's routine...everything's fine
I'm given a ticket for the queue
My numbers' sixty nine!
It starts to make me chuckle
I think: "If only-what the fuck!"
Never getting past a wank or a blow job
Mired in so-called sordid cottaging muck.
Not that I'm ashamed, but waiting's such a chore
Standing in a toilet by the sink
If the 'action' ever gets past
A sad nod or desperate wink.
Don't get me wrong
I'm not the complaining type
This is what I just do instead
Of lies and internet hype.
All they ever ask you is
Do you have your own place
Wanting to know the size of your cock
Then vanish off-screen without trace.
I realise it's just a fantasy
A ticket number scrap of paper
There'll be no soixante-neuf hanky panky
None of that ooh-la-la caper.
But there's no harm in dreaming
Naughty thoughts in my memory bank
That'll do me lying in bed tonight
I've a Lewisham Hospital appointment to thank.

Dulwich Poet 16th February 2015

( As the poem explains...I got a ticket numbered 69, while waiting for a hospital appointment. It got me thinking about my sex life, or lack of one!)