| That woman, I swear, had hairs in her nose,
But that's not unusual,
And for an older woman with wrinkles everywhere,
She sure looked fine, handsome, delicious,
All at the same time--she made me hot, she made me hurt!
She made me want to spend my last and latest urges
Without calculation, among the chickens
Scratching out existence on this damn dung heap,
Or purse myself like some giant kiss
And hope I can press myself upon her
As if she's the last woman left alive!
Will she be impressed?! Probably not.
She may just see me as some past wound
That's yet to heal.
She looks so good
Not only that she wiggles when she walks
But even just sitting there with her head inclined,
She makes my glasses fog
And all my glandular impulses (I'm such a dog!) even more urgent!
I just don't know,
I don't think I ever had a chance! |
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Abandon hope, all ye who enter here! (At least put on your socks and pants.)