Ode To The Incorrigible Red Moon Poem by Doris Cornago

When I love a man, I see the best in him; or is it because I love him that I only see the best in him? He disagrees with my descriptions and quantification of his assets and would make fun of my words. Previously, it mystified me, this masculine trait of demeaning one's self. A life coach told me about the male mystique, and how to make a relationship stick. So, here it is, to the red moon who defies description, an unbelievable yet, visible aspect of my life. He shows his backside to the camera intentionally as yet another male quirk to mystify the viewer. He is looking at himself, the red moon, wondering what it is that makes me break out into poems about him. Such dry humor I understand and tolerate. I'm an expert, would you say?