In seduction I lack
not one whit in the sack,
make strategic attack -
maiden's tongue tied and, thwack!
Neither heartbreak nor flack,
nor regret for some lack,
she kissed me right back
like that, without sorrow,
and a pat on the back
seemed to show on right track
was my rapid click-clack
which twitching with witch
in the kitchen enriching
unpartingly darting saw pitch in
the daintiest morsel bewitching.
In the ‘Art’ I’ve a knack,
with my strong chimney stack
I am never short stack,
as the French say: 'crack crack! '
shared a light tasty snack:
there was no turning back
when together we'd shack.
Yet at dawn on the morrow
I was left out on a limb, oh
my limp bereft limbo
for she cut me no slack
went ahead my head slack
and proceeded to pack,
these included my Mac,
all too easy to hack,
her possessions in back
of big black cadillac.
Added insult: backtrack
took unfortunate tack.
Undeserved was sharp smack
she returned when would limo fare borrow!
Fair eclipsed herself solo
showing victory hollow,
nasty law-suit to follow
that duly arrived to my sorrow.
Sowing wild oats ain't simple to swallow!
Once I thought myself crack
mingling tongues but alack!
what is white, what is black?
tingling young darts apart too allegro,
singling stung hearts pay, smart, you a leg grow!
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