He reads a dictionary in bed
He  uses real hankies
He never says anything when he comes home from work
He is too talkative in bed
He thinks  women are born knowing how to bake
He looks like Jordan Peterson
He looks like Einstein
He looks unhappy all the time
He is too young for me.
He only has a bath at Xmas

She reads a thesaurus in bed
She can’t write letters with a real pen
She keeps screaming in bed when I am trying to sleep
She only likes sex at Xmas
She has a better job than I do and she tells everyone
She can’t  find her sense of direction.
She wears lipstick at the Dentists
She wears wincyette nightgowns in summer
She sleeps with her bra on.
She sleeps dressed for work
She marks exam papers in bed
She does mental arithmetic  when I kiss her.

We are bored

So goodbye  to  Theresa May
Gone tomorrow
Here today
Shy and sly and all too tense
Geography’s no recompense
Keep out trespassers like me
Persecute the Zuiderzee
Send me back to where I’m from
Cut me up and suck my thumb
Eyes are Nordic, hair  is too
I am now  an Irish Jew
The Armada’s ship  did sink
Sephardic Spanish Jews  I think
Married for their  handsome looks
Hair as black as any duke’s
So the Irish people are
Celtic,Jewish,   shout Hurrah!
I think I’ll get a  passport new
Move to Mayoh, seas of blue.
Let me find a lover there
They marry late, how do they dare?
They were poor so I am here
Grey with dust  and  white with fear

https://www.poets.org/poetsorg/poem/how-palestinians-keep-warm

Choose one word and say it over
and over, till it builds a fire inside your mouth.
Adhafera, the one who holds out, Alphard, solitary one,
the stars were named by people like us.
Each night they line up on the long path between worlds.
They nod and blink, no right or wrong
in their yellow eyes. Dirah, little house,
unfold your walls and take us in.

My well went dry, my grandfather’s grapes
have stopped singing. I stir the coals,
my babies cry. How will I teach them
they belong to the stars?
They build forts of white stone and say, “This is mine.”
How will I teach them to love Mizar, veil, cloak,
to know that behind it an ancient man
is fanning a flame?
He stirs the dark wind of our breath.
He says the veil will rise
till they see us shining, spreading like embers
on the blessed hills.

Well, I made that up. I’m not so sure about Mizar.
But I know we need to keep warm here on earth
And when your shawl is as thin as mine is, you tell stories.