Gethsemene

Of Ladies and Logic

The lady laughs and rolls around, Her belly's full of wine, She murmurs antique lullabies And whispers things divine. The gentleman across the room Perpetuates his state By trying to avoid her gaze And thinking things innate; To him, unlike the rest of us, These things are math and cabs. The lady rolls around some more And says it's up for grabs. The gentleman begins to feel A stirring in his mind, The lady licks a ripened orange And fiddles with its rind. Intoxicating thoughts begin To drift across the room; The lady giggles drunkenly And begs him for it soon. The gentleman, on the other hand, Is remaining so reserved He ought to win a medal for Control of the absurd. The lady pouts a mighty frown And fumbles with her hair, The man maintains his attitude And muses in his chair: To walk across the Persian rug And pull the lady down And pin her 'neath my muscles Whilst I prove my world renown Is not unlike the case of men Who won't kill wounded soldiers: Although I'd like to feel her clutch My neck and arms and shoulders, I rather pride myself on taking Only what is mine. The lady satisfies herself Then sleeps, and dreams of swine.