Old Sticky

There was an arcane dispute
Which uncharacteristically
I can no longer recall.

On which side of the perished vinyl screen
Was I to be located? Liz pulled me one way
Into the realm of the student
While you seized my arm
To claim me for the Adult World.

If you touched Old Sticky it left a residue
And it was impossible to close completely
With its concertina folds in permanent flux
Surfaces adhering one to the other
As it licked its lips in the act of unfolding.

 I think you won
But I can’t be sure.

Twenty yaers later an examiner
Congratulated you on your award
With an energetic bear hug.

Twenty five years later
I ceased to be jealous of him
When you held me outside the restaurant.

All those years to foster trust.
It seems.