Eccentric white hands, wavin' and flippin'

My sight, parts a million, dartin' and tracin'

The buttery toast, the bacon and eggs,

The crumbs on the table, the grease on her lips

Her lips, her lips, her Asian lips

which creased and scowled as her nose itched and twitched

She had eyes, just a pair with glasses to match

Hair wild with fragrance, black to the lash

Her fingers that smacked me

Her eyebrows that scorned me

Dizzy I was, as she cursed me to death

Her presence in town exuded charm so unreal

Her slim, young body devouring that meal

That buttery toast, yes, do leave some for me

Your bacon and eggs, the sugary tea

But the crumbs on the table mean nothing to me

As I dive closer, aiming yet trembling with glee

Your eyes meeting mine, your scowl moist, such delight!

I'm there on your lips, yet you purse them so tight

And just as I savour this delectable pie

Smack, down with the fly...

How could you leave me to die!

Written on Wednesday October 24, 2007