Should I write a poem of sappy love/ Teenage emotion gone on a sneak-away ride/ Visigoth hormones usurping my pen, again/ Sad memories of those girls, oh, those girls/ High School dances like small caliber holes in my heart/ No exit wounds, the lipstick bullets fester in me/ Music so loud I can not hear her giggle to her coven/ About the way I tried to kiss her/ In the gym, in public/ Where all the Cool boys might see? Or Should I, forty years later, just walk my dog/ And whistle as I bag up her ****/ Enjoying the evening as we walk/ While she wags and is happy to be here/ Beside me, regardless of my haircut/ Or the horsepower of my car?/ Why start now? I never cared then/ About them, the Loud Pretty ones/ With the guns aimed at my heart/ The only thing they knew how to do was shoot and run/ Where's the fun in that?/ Come on back, ladies.../ I have years of dog-**** waiting for you.