It was dilation, I know,
but it could have ended,
right from the start.

It made her so hot, I know,
but the pot wasn't blended,
true to her heart.

A strange attraction, I know,
like something I’d seen,
at the local Wallmart.

False infatuation, I know,
with all belief suspended,
that tore us apart.

A fine flatulation, I know,
entirely unintended,
that blew us a fart.

It was flagellation, I know,
with a backside bended,
that upset the apple cart.

It was rejection, I know,
with no love intended,
from that cute little tart.


Dialated Pupil

Had my eyes checked. My ophthalmologist
was hot.  She dilated my pupils to make me
more attractive? My apologies to the songwriter.

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Copyright 2013 © Ronald W. Hull


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