The Best One Yet Poem by Alistair Adkinson

Her armpits are hairy
her best friend's a fairy
she don't like Moe, Curly, or Larry
she likes candle wax and lithographs
of the Virgin Mary

She's never owned a television
her living room's a hippy prison
full of wine, wicker, and plastic beads
And four editions
of the Norton Anthology

She's the kind of chick
who'd never like me
yet she flips for her professor
of Vedic philosophy -

A one-armed Indian
twice her age
who thinks socks and sandals
are all the rage

He speaks in parables
and reeks of sweat
and thinks she might be
the best one yet