It's three a.m. on a Saturday night,
Just a couple of hours til dawn's first light,
I feel her warm body, close next to mine,
Caress her lithe figure, taste lips of wine.
Give me my pillow, you lecherous fool,
What's that on your mouth? it looks like some drool,
Why are you muttering? I will be thine,
Who the heck is this Poet deVine?
Get your butt out of bed, get to the store,
Let's see your tail end head right out the door,
And bring back some milk, so when kids awake,
Of Fruit Loops and Wheaties, they can partake.
I get in the car and head down the street,
I'm still half asleep, and in stocking feet,
I get to the store, head down the first aisle,
Wishing was home, in my warm domicile.
Then by the produce, I happen to spy,
A beautiful goddess, thought I would cry,
O' what a vision, a Helen of Troy,
O' my dear God, I think its a boy!
Scurrying past, I walk by the bread,
There's an old wino, I hope he's not dead,
Then by the pastries, chocolate delights,
Mother of Mary, two hermaphrodites.
Then at the milk, grab a gallon or two,
I really need, to get out of this zoo,
Head for the checkout, and then out the door,
Once in the car, the gas pedal I floor.
I get to the house, the milk's put away,
I head back to bed, and what can I say,
I snuggle up cozy, then in my head,
Sweet dreams of deVine, all snug in my bed.
In response to the challenge of Poet Divine.
[This message has been edited by Mike (edited 07-30-99).]