'Of course I like it'
She giggles so coy
Pastel pink frayed at the ends
I can see the outline of treasure

As she glides over to me
Takes my hand and
Walks me into the back room

She's not like others, I swear.
She's fresh and new like a June breeze and
Soft, sweet as a fresh peach,
Like Dead Sea Salt on a dead sea beach.

She swings and bobs and hums sunny sweet
While she walks
And while she talks, with rhythm. Heartbeat.

Am I happy? Now.
Sure, now that I know
That she's a frozen concept, stagnant snow.
Perfection? Deception.
So it's the truth at the end