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William Shake-speare : Sonnet 130

Dim Lady

My honeybunch’s peepers are nothing like neon. Today’s special at Red Lobster is redder than her kisser. If Liquid paper is white, her racks are institutional beige. If her mop were Slinkys, dishwater Slinkys would grow on her noggin. I have seen tablecloths in Shakey’s Pizza Parlors, red and white, but no such picnic colors do I see in her mug. And in some minty-fresh mouthwashes there is more sweetness than in the garlic breeze my main squeeze wheezes. I love to hear her rap, yet I’m aware that Muzak has a hipper beat. I don’t know any Marilyn Monroes. My ball and chain is plain from head to toe. And yet, by gosh, my scrumptious Twinkie has as much sex appeal for me as any lanky model or platinum movie idol who’s hyped beyond belief.

–Harryette Mullen

Follow me on the Twittah

  • Love means never having to say, "I shouldn't have to say this-" 4 months ago
  • Love means never having to say, "Let's stream another episode." 4 months ago
  • What's the point of shaving if it's not to make you look more like a Pirate, me matey? 4 months ago
  • What's more embarrassing: that I'm eating gluten free rice crackers for a snack or that I'm even asking this? 9 months ago
  • Youngest son's soccer team kicks more goals than the other team. Still loses. 9 months ago

The Novel I’m Now Reading

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