strands of saffron,
her eyes cool mint.
She has a Boston accent
and a hot temperament. She’ll

chase you as a puppy,
racing ‘round the house.
Slippery as a guppy.
Woman does grouse. But

fall for her you will. She’s
a thrill in the morning when you’ve
a big head from the planter’s
punch. She’s a thrill at noon –

after lunch. And in the evening
reading the paper, ******* to
go to bed she’ll be pleading with
you to go dancing under starlight

in a sky of broken red. Within a second,
you’ll do so.  Her kisses are
buttered toffee. She’ll have you up
all night like ten cups of coffee. The bags

under those eyes will be greasy as
a homeless man’s. And as you
pack the car to go –
you’ve find that she’s made plans!