Guy On The Horns Of A Dilemma Poem by John F. McCullagh

I greet you in the morning
with a flute of dry Champagne.
I thought we drank it all last night-
My headache thinks the same.

You looks at me with sparkling eyes
And purr at my caresses
I know that You could be the one
But I don’t know what your name is.

I know it’s not Delores
That was Seinfeld’s girl du jour
I think I can rule our Angel
from your words and deeds impure.

For the moment I can temporize
With sweetheart, murmured low
But endearments are no substitute
Her name I need to know.

You tackle me and cuddle
With lascivious intent
If this will be the daily grind
I’m up for sharing rent.

You say “I’ have got to shower”
Or else I’ll be late for work.”
“I’ve forgotten what your name is,
You must think I’m such a jerk”

We laugh at the coincidence
And each give a name and number
We make a date for later
And both know its' not for slumber..