Venlafaxin (75 mg)

Since he met you, in quieter moments,
Daydream-driving or plodding along
To the supermarket to see
If some salmon’s on offer,
A little folksong hums in his head,
Which he imagines was composed by some eighteenth century
Jolly farmer, now immortalised
On a pub sign somewhere in Hampshire:
Rotund; enjoying his lamb chops, but only slightly too much.

Then he thinks of that scene in The Sorcerer
When the shepherds and milkmaids awake
And, enchanted, fall for the first whom they see
And he sees that you turned his Savoy to a pub:

Divine love: mere ditties,
Dante’s depths: no deeper than the barrels,
Elysium: a beer garden with swings for the kids.
He sips on an Alton ale and wonders:
“Where would he be if he hadn’t met you?
“Would he even be at all?”

And, as light thoughts move towards sunset,
He hears himself humming that same sprightly tune.