At first,
She thought
His voice
Lyrical,
Amusing,
Intellectual,
Musical—-
Driving relatively
To the point,
Or,
A point.
Then,
She noticed
The staccato speed
At which,
His noise
Filled the room—-
The way his hands,
Bent strangely
In,
And waved about
In agitated motion.
“The size of them!”
She thought,
Against her generous will.
“So, tiny.”
“Child-like,”
“On that big man.”
Suddenly,
Revulsion rose
And,
She envisioned
Bound feet,
Jerusalem crickets,
Slugs,
Or,
Earthworms fried on hot asphalt.
“It must be the gin and tonic,”
She said,
As she made her excuses
And,
Went to bed.
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