While at lunch on an

agreeable afternoon,

Debbie fiddles with

the ends of her hair

while speaking to

young male contender,

cleavage flutters as

she titters at seasoned

bids at humor…

“…that shade of tangerine goes

well with the hues on your cheeks

and the pink glimpses of flesh I

get in the space between your teeth…”

…Little Verne

clings to her latest

Terry Pratchett myth,

loving quips from

unassuming Death,

wishing she was Angua,

werewolf sleuth,

I could smell the lie he’s about to tell

Before he even says it!

Or maybe even

the Dark Knight

see how I slip this

bug quickly  under his collar?

Deborah, nodding in perfect politeness,
Stuns him with alternative view points

To the one he cherishes the most,

His own of course and, dare I say it,

Inspires awe and hatred all in the same go.

(The fish is good, we should eat here

More often, shouldn’t taste as bitter

With better company.)

©2006 Debra Providence

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