Her name is Genevieve
Or maybe Adriana.
I love how she tugs at her ear
When she tilts her head just so
And smiles with trepidation
So knowingly unsure.
My afternoon girl cafe
With two sugar cubes au lait
And discounted biscotti.
Just a girl with sensible shoes
Read Lawrence when age twenty-two
Dreams of saving the daffodils
Or maybe the pretty whales
But a leather tote bag will do.
So what do you do? She asks
With eyes that say nothing at all.
Finance or maybe insurance
A home and a wife at the mall.
How nice and clean cut, she says
Like pepper withheld from a stew
The girls are all the same here
Polkadots in search of a hem
So why did you pick me?
The question leaves me speechless
The Rolodex seldom speaks back
Just a name on a card with numbers
Maybe a note to pick up what gift.
With nothing to say she leaves
So I may fetch a wife from the mall.
Any one wife will do, she says
Just be sure to kiss her for me
A peck on her forehead will do
Or a pinch on her butt, adieu.