This is really hard where there's a TV. In Maryland I don't have one. No need after Buffy's gone.
Dirty Old Man Appetite
I like to watch her walk, this just-past girl,
Who said that she'd take care of me tonight,
Whose name is Ann, whose eyebrow sports a pearl,
Whose manner's more familiar than polite.
She asks "How are the chops?" and I say fine,
Although they're somehow overcooked and cold.
She calls me "Sweetie" as she pours my wine;
It could not be more clear she thinks I'm old.
I am, of course, I'm more than twice her age.
I slather mango chutney on the pork
And watch her walk away, stupid with rage.
What good's this appetite? What use this fork?
She brings my bill; I pay and tip too much.
Next week there's someone else I'll never touch.
Update 1/18/2004
Judy Thompson, a poet and good friend (though we've never met FTF), gave me the title.
10:55:19 PM
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