Graunia

Old men who want women, eat calf’s liver and greens, something clings to them, the coming night groans, a wind hushed chill seizes, skin that clings to bones, worried they appear timid, by the city's muffled seethe, their desires know no limit, say they’ll make their ladies glow, bestow love every evening, bars are their road show, cognac turns their breath bitter, doubt what talk has gleaned, all a disco ball glitter, beneath their boasts, they know what Goya’s seen, richer, older,a softer pillow, wine, bread, falling leaves.