Courtesy of The PigWorks

Who is that Greek god standing there

with Hyperion’s noble brow?

His muscled torso brings to mind

my entirely forgotten vow

To start exercising tomorrow for sure,

or the very next day at the least,

And to always eat in moderation

(especially at holiday feasts).

His easy athletic prowess

puts my very best efforts to shame;

The SOB always seems to be

right at the top of his game.

And his encyclopedic recall

of all the proper facts,

Just makes my fingers itch to fill

his chair with carpet tacks.

This handsome, dimple-cheeked Romeo

whose soulful eyes and smile

Instantly caused my gorge to rise

with barely suppressed bile,

Saunters away with the Love of My Life,

cozily arm in arm,

While I glower at their departing backs,

she all bedazzled by his charm.

I grumpily head on back to the house

for a can of my favorite brew

To soothe my wounded ego,

and this funky mood so blue.

Of course, I fully realize

that Mr. Perfect could easily be me

I’ll start the transformation tomorrow;

just you wait, uh-huh, you’ll see.

©November 10, 2002 Thurman P. Woodfork