She was a head-turner, that one.

She wore tight-fitting clothes that
Complimented her like a love letter
And her walk could make
Any sensible dude talk

I'll never forget when we first talked
And how although I only liked her physically
She presented herself as innocently decent
Even after showing me a picture in her underwear.
And I felt badly
Because even as I write this poem
She might someday find this and know it was for her
But if she does
Her knee-high black boots can walk proudly across these words.

Why do hackers think so highly of boot camp?
Who pays through the nose to send footwear abroad?
Why use boots and not sneakers nor sandals?

Instead,
Stick with the proven approach,
Used over thousands of years,
Billions of satisfied users,
Faster and cheaper to boot.

Throat lozenges—guaranteed to improve hacking.

Italeau...Fiamma--my brother wishes likewise that they'd fit.



(sonnet #MMMMMMMCDX)


Boots.  Suede, Italian, and too small fr'intents,
My toes half bruised from jist one two-hour's scale
As twere of wearing, and lo, for the sale
Which netted me this lux'ry I've naught hence
Save yearning for that glor'ous pair which thence
Must be returned, prayrs for a pair t'avail
Me like these should have, with none in a frail
Excuse 'cept made-in-China boots' defense.
I only text YOU 'bout the size as t'were,
Nor know what YOUR opinion is, if YOU
Care two bits whether I've this pair in tour
Or that, just that Italian boots anew
"Run small."  And um, "I wear size ten." But's poor,
Cuz I must foot the bill, with pennies too.

25Sep18b

Tramping around the world
like you own it
Lace top
Short skirt
Fishnets
Knee high boots
Red lipstick
And a goddess complex
With a ******* attitude
Exuding immeasurable energy
Enough to entrap me
In spite of all the red flags
I follow you
Like a stray
Lost until I found you
Worshipping
Like the newest religion
Your body a scripture
Whose words I want to memorize