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Poem

She pleaded with me to meet her here;
knowing that I could never decline.
But now, it's past midnight and raining;
although she swore she'd be here by nine.

Trying to understand her is like
trying to light a damp cigarette.
For the more anxious I am to try;
the more frustrating my attempts get.

Her excuses are nonsensical;
she's silly and possibly insane.
And I've stopped trying to outguess her,
for she deals in both pleasure and pain.

She is a genuine conundrum,
specializing in leaving me vexed.
And in the end, I have little choice;
but to walk away feeling perplexed.

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