One look, and I want desperately
to take your
breath away for a dirty weekend.

When I glimpse down your blouse, my
heart pounds
like two deaf cats tap-dancing on an old wash-tub.

This
isn't just love, for when my soul falls into your eyes
I know that on the
great sweater of life,
I've found another fuzz-ball like myself.

Someone who wouldn't look at a print
of Da Vinci's "Last Supper",
and
ask what a table like that would cost,
nowadays.

Someone who knows that
love
isn't what you have to do
if you can't find your TV Guide

anywhere.

© Elas Giordano 1995
     funnypoetry.com