To My Bronze Lady
O! How I faint when I of you do write,
The pair of you doth set my loins aflame.
My love concealed, I cannot be forthright
If Gene did know ‘tis sure that me he’d maim.
My fantasies are of a metal miss,
Deep bronze she is and, yes, exceeding fair.
My soul despairs at knowing she is his,
My lust for both of them too hard to bear.
On her sleek chassis Gene is known to dote
And I on him, though that he would deride.
Magnificent swine in a camel coat,
He calls me Gladys, thinks that I’m from Hyde.
Gloves, camel blanket, Ford Guide all arrayed,
My onanistic fetishes betrayed.