I hadn’t seen her for ages, But I’d know her anywhere, With that finely chiseled profile And that mass of golden hair. We’d had a rollercoaster romance. I remembered the thrill of it all, As I raised my hand in greeting, Across the crowded hall. “Sold to the man in the back row,” I heard the auctioneer say. “If you’d like to sign the contract, That’s twelve hundred pounds to pay.” The girl I’d waved to came across And I realized my mistake. She was a perfect stranger. An expensive error to make. The day was a calamity And ruinous at that. I’d bought some garden furniture. And I live in a tenth-floor flat.