Star-Crossed Implications

She’s into sushi and sapiosexuals, Yogis with crystals, and vain intellectuals. Just a flutter-by wisp with a thin portmanteau, Who doesn’t believe what she’d rather not know. Her porcelain features come straight off the shelf. She plans for the future by suiting herself. She teases the barmaid with talk about milk, While flashing embroidered hosiery silk. Her custom transmission is always in gear. Neutral doesn’t stroke her RPM. You never need to peel her grapes, Just be sure to pluck them off the stem. Mars is impassive. Venus is hot. Their orbits eccentric, as likely as not. He’s got a terribly large axe to grind, And doesn’t ever kindly suffer fools. To him, she’s just another barroom filly, And he’s not the sort to follow by the rules. He didn’t need the laurel of another top ten hit. He’d written that song many times before. But her magnetic eyes and tell-tale mouth Put his better judgment on a slow train headed south. If not for the liquor, he might have ignored her, Instead, he laid his papers on the line. And offered up a wary introduction, Inviting her to share a glass of wine. Mars is unyielding. Venus is not. Their orbits are star-crossed, most likely to knot.