A freckled wench with flaxen hair,

Once in a nightclub, I did meet.

And with her playful, comely stare,

I fell spellbound, in August’s heat.

Then, in the course of evenings spent,

Two bodies met and joined as one.

As passion surged, she came and went,

And crawfish red she turned, when done.

She always ordered super size,

And often bought the “Big Gulp” cup.

The buffet had a bad surprise,

When she and I came driving up.

The summer days and nights did pass.

My worried face brought laughter.

I sensed my fit was not first class,

Unhappy always after.

A two by four, my safety gear,

Twas strapped across my straining back.

I knew no words could ease my fear,

Calcutta’s hole was not as black.

I could not penetrate her world.

I’m sure she thought my measure small.

Thus now I seek another girl,

Who, at least, thinks my stature tall.

end

Mr. E. Bates is a poet who likens the quest for love to a foxhunt, in which it is the chase and not the kill that appeals.