A puzzle

From This...To This...

The traditional Asian spinster who has never kissed, held hands...made love. How does one live, having had no sex in the past, no schedule for sex in the present and no prospect of sex in the future?

Just the thought drives me half-mad.

Where I live, one sees a handful drifting about heading to £10 (RM70) shops with a dying grocery list of 55 years.

They are often lizard like in appearance or oddball-shaped known for eccentricity and for talking to themselves. Some colour their hair orange... others have none. Except for the lizards, these are the ones blessed with buxomy boobs now gone to rot, wasted, plunged down into never-never land, retired and prematurely parachuted into its mental grave with no lover to mourn the absent nipple.

God wasted too much clay on the wrong day, I say, I say.

Some want to write books...are writing furiously their short stories and poetry.
Because they have now sprung to life like a jack-in-the-box...

I become infinitly curious.

What do they find to talk about...they who have never tasted the sliver of a man's finger running on skin, the feel of his lips behind their ears, a lover's intimacy of whispers in bed...

Do they get up in the mornings see their skin flaky and old, where once it was hopeful and soft, cursing only the neighbour's barking dog.

Perhaps they write about dandruff, moisturisers or Jesus embracing them on a sunbeam. Perhaps they write about cheap clocks and tailors, old-fashioned hairdressers and how many days it is left to Christmas.

Perhaps they count the days to a concert. 10 days left to go, 9 days left to go, 8 days left to go...

They can make a good fruitcake...

But they couldn't pin the flavours down to anything warm, familiar and seeking wicked temptations. Never smelt the breath of champagne, resting near his neck. No, the saddest thing...
is perhaps the missing teeth and the lifelong missing kiss.

A minute of silence, please.