Wild Strawberries Poem by Herbert Nehrlich

I woke to this razzamataz,
down the street where my lovely Mahnaz
had her beautiful flat
and a picky old brat
who had, daily, the male order blaaahs.

He was known in the street as a nerd,
who had somehow been given this bird
she was pretty and smart
and a work of great art
she was shaken and never quite stirred.

Like a real delicious Martini
with a hubby but lacking bambini
she then thought it her duty
to disguise her great beauty
so she turned into Mrs. Houdini.

As for me I went back to my bed
and the words of the priest 'I thee wed'
sang a tune in my ears
then it triggered two tears
and I went to my Hemi instead.