The gauntlet was thrown:
a poet sought!
But yet,
invitations of meeting
were deleted with no regret;
they went for naught.

yet again, another time
he casts his bread
upon her swirling waters;
leaves his rhyme
in her head,

and asks:
What is she searching for?
Really?
An intellect to match her own?
With me she’s home.

A writer, witty and bright?
I’m that (if I can avoid being trite).
Six foot oh oh oh
I’m the wrong height for her stilettos.

(Sigh).
Is that the only reason why
I’m not the guy?
(Sigh).

“I Love to laugh, cuddle, kiss, and think.”

I met a woman;
I made her laugh.
The sparkle in her eyes
was on my behalf.

But to win her,
to cuddle, kiss and coo,
I didn’t buy her dinner.
Instead, I choose to woo

her with smiles and deep words!
(It may sound absurd,
but the unknown reality is,
for intelligent women, this:)

A woman is reached, in her soul and heart,
through her brain, more than any other part.

I have a canoe
down by Red Hook Brew-
ery.
Come do
my canoe
with me.

You can sit in the bow.
I’ll show you how
to pluck stuff from the water;
You might see an otter
or two,
from the canoe.

And when we are done,
you’ll think “That was fun!”
“Unusual, too!”
“Cleaning in a canoe!”

We’ll throw the junk away
we collect that day,
when we’re through.
Just me, you,
and our canoe.