I met her at the protest march,

    Where they were burning bras and such.

We walked, with fists raised, through an arch.

    I felt her power with first touch.

Then later, at the local bar,

    We talked about the rise and fall,

And of a place both near and far.

    I sensed this girl would want it all.

She spoke of Nietzsche’s superman*,

    Who had excess, which overflowed.

My race was lost before I ran.

    A poker face was all she showed.

Quite Nordic in her ancestry,

    Her perfect mind, all-knowing.

She rode me like a Valkyrie,

    With golden locks free-flowing.

Her special sign was tattooed low.

    So low, I almost broke my back,

While paying homage to that ho,

    And falling down inside the crack.

But after crawling that long while,

    I then attained a stature tall.

One can run the longest mile,

    Once one has learned to crawl.

end

*superman – ubermench