I don’t think

Your son is interested in

Nice girls like me.

He is attracted to Kay Slutterland.

Oh, Pardon my faux-pas….Sutherland.

Yes !….Kay.

All plunging neckline, bare belly and bossom bursting up out of an underwire prison.

That’s right. The Sutherland girl from the East side.

Please don’t take this the wrong way

But…

Your son practically tattoos his eyes on her skin.

I hate to disappoint you but he barely glances my way.

I am not his type.  Yes, really.

I’ m trim. Neat. Polite.  I look glorious

In a knit-sweater and pleated skirt.

It’s true.

Ready for Church Picnics

And afternoons at the Racquet Club

of course.

I bumped into Kay and your son at the

Library.

In fact.

They were in the Poetry Section.

She had her head thrown back, eyes closed, and toes curled

And she was practically

Moaning

as he stroked her with exhilarating and  pulsating words.

I was overcome with a dizzy sensation.

I had to…

Escape to the cookbook section.

He reads poetry so well.

Yes , the bundt cake comes from a recipe

I found there.

So delightful;  lemon poppy seed.

All proper and everything when coming for a visit

Mother always says.

This has been lovely.  Thank you.

And would you tell your son that his Poetry Book is overdue?

He could bring it to my place

Later.