Wait. To you, she's “La Lopez”. To me, “Jen”, always.
Doyenne of “Anaconda”. A date, indeed!
You’d have me narrate the gravamen,
say how it was? She was a ten. Great, she seemed.
Or perhaps an eight. But never again!
Well, she doesn’t like real men. Cheapskate, too.
I’ll tell you straight, it all went bandy when,
as our train pulled out...
Continue reading...