Jaguar Xk Poem by gershon hepner

For touring, tumescent
the Jag feels pubescent,
Madonna coquettish,
as monocoquettish
it speeds with its chassis
like men on Cialis,
alive and alertable
in their convertible.
Oh give me the power,
at least for an hour,
to drive it full-throated,
and let me be quoted:
with zero to sixty
it proves to the chicks T-
boned steaks aren’t the greatest.
This Jag’s for the sadist
who wastes no time pleading
while sportively speeding.
If only I buy one
I’m sure I’ll be Guy One;
in it I won’t fumble
in seats called the rumble,
turning off with ignition
the dread inhibition
that comes with less sporty
machines for the naughty.
Thus sadly I ponder
while driving my Honda.

5/24/06