| |
'And as I wrote you in my letter,
I always liked the left one better.
Not that the difference was great
at rest or in their boastful state.
You say that they are far apart,
I say they are two works of art.
I wish I had a narrow head
and you invited me to bed.
I could, perhaps rest in between....
Struth, what was THAT, what do you mean?
I never said that there was space,
I'm talking of a NARROW face,
so thin it would with great ease fit
between the seams of that warm mit
you knitted back when we had snow,
well, just forget it, I do swear
when looking closely at your bare
endowment fund's plush apparitions
I find it hard to make decisions,
my heart sounds like an Inuit drum
and I just gawk, sometimes I hum.
I do this when there is no light
when spirits haunt me in the night,
no, please I've answered you already
your other parts, let's keep this steady,
perfection is a wasted term
yes, all the skin is tight and firm,
legs shapelier I've NEVER seen
not even in a beauty queen.
Now dear, I would not lie to you,
I say that there is not a shoe
that could do justice to your feet
your arches also can't be beat,
each nail would only look less quaint
if covered by some liquid paint,
I figured you would get around
to ask about that forest mound
to which I hoarsely say, sweet Jesus
I personally shall write a thesis,
a post-grad doctor's dissertation
which deals with re-conciliation
and how one travels from Calais
to Dover without negligee!
You see, I am the most astute
observer of each attribute
and there is nothing I can see
that could claim superiority,
it is, believe me hard to grasp
that you would need that little clasp
to hold your flowered dress in place.
To sum it up, you ARE an ace,
the gods were at their very best
first they made YOU, then came the rest.
I see that you are smiling, sweet,
so shall we leave this busy street,
all windows of the shops agreed
that there is nothing, NONE indeed
that would come close to you my love,
not even the most handsome dove.
Oh no, don't start that one again,
you surely know that boys and men
are not precise when they portray
the features of a décolleté,
I never said that doves look better,
and please don't wave that lousy letter
in front of me, (I DON'T like Heather) ,
I know of course that doves have feathers
they do keep off inclement weathers,
that does not mean I was suggesting
(and no, I really was NOT testing) ,
that you should think about the trees
you'd catch a chill from any breeze!
You did? Oh my, I hadn't thought
what now, perhaps you, no... I ought
to ask you if you wouldn't mind.....
not putting you into a bind,
is there a portion of my features
that separates me from the creatures
that populate this crazy globe,
(so if I dropped my silken robe) ...
and that YOU, apple of my eye,
prefer, if so please tell me why.
Why are you pulling me so hard
we need to pick up Kierkegaard,
at Holtzermann's, you know for class
we won't get by with just a Pass.
Okay, you can, if you desire
wait until later, the entire
list of all parts may be quite long
what are you pulling, wow you're strong! '
EPILOG:
We reached the place, it started snowing
her urgency now had me going,
back then I was a trifle shy
a books are vital kind of guy.
She never answered me my query,
played Mozart's Figaro, quite eerie,
I felt exhausted from discussions
though did foresee no repercussions,
I HAD passed all the tests this once
(and never told her that her buns,
when looked at from the iliac crests
were equal to her scrumptious breasts) .
Written for one elm and two maple leaves.
Herbert Nehrlich
|
|
User Rating: |
|
10.0
/10
(1 votes) |
|
|
|
E-mail this poem to e friend