She said she'd think of giving taste,
Yet only found myself in dreams—
Apparently too chaste a case
To satisfy her being's needs.
She told this story angrily,
Like I deserved definite blame
For her imagination enduring
Unpleasing, comic tease in shame.
My bad, yes ma’am, find fault in me,
Since I was there to touch
That precious vault incredibly—
Not merely feel it mush.
You poms could view my best,
Or close to it, I bet.
Comments about this poem (Unsatisfactory Dreaming by Edwin Cordero )
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