by Robert Gould
You can expect the worst from this woman.
Every day she sculpts the night like clay,
like a bad tour guide with a god complex;
her demands are final and most unfair.
From bar to bar you go with modest hope
that perhaps she will find some kind of mate,
a man with low standards and cash to burn.
But when she pulls, she pulls the veil away,
and reveals her truly toxic nature –
whether he leaves or stays tests his morale.
But her wit makes her hard to fully hate.
Each fight concludes with some clever critique:
“If I’m a million dollar bill,” she barks,
“then you’re the change I get back at the till.”