Have you thought about/
if i can ask you out?/
Could you give Mr. Romance/
a chance?/
Or am I only good for/
a laugh and a dance,/
nothing more?

Crescent moon shining/
on new snow and there’s no one/
to share beauty with.

I would love to ride on tracks
and walk through the city with you.
I wonder if we’d hear the sax
notes bend from out of view.

I wish
I could be in your space
and would list
to see your bright face

sooner than Thursday
if there was a way.
I could help you do
and see the good work through.

Or we could walk and see the lights.
And my heart would be lit. That would be alright.

Women want a man/
who will get the car door/
and extend his hand/
and lift her up, then more.

He’ll breathe a deep sigh/
as he holds her near,/
and look deep into her eyes,/
and whisper softly in her ear

Even if they’re just/
going out for fast food./
Not because he must,/
but because he’s that good.

And when she speaks deep thoughts soft and low,
he’ll listen, and understand, and she’ll know.

I wooed you
with words
witty and wise;
talked about
the wisdom
in your eyes;
wondered at
the whiteness
of your thighs;
worried about
your cliche’d
alibis.

If you ever meet/
me, you might get one that will/
woo romantic’ly.

The post Thanksgiving/
toilet splatter tells me my/
girl still kills herself.

Wooing a woman/
with wine, not wit, is woef’lly/
unsatisfying
OR
Warning! Wooing a/
woman with wine, not wit, is/
woefully wanting.

If you ever meet/
me, you might get one that will/
woo romantic’ly