I thought I'd start my blogging career with a narrative poem (yes, it's homework) that tells more than it should.

Cole Porter Is Always Right

It's the wrong time, and the wrong place
Though your face is charming, it's the wrong face
So, I wore the black dress
The one cut down
to
here
Nice shoes, stockings
I was beautiful
sexy
Surprising
Even the young ones glanced
Yah, I looked good
If he could see me now
It's not his face, but such a charming face
That it's all right with me
I drank
And drank
And forgot
Flirting is much easier when you drink a little
A lot
It's the wrong song, in the wrong style
Though your smile is lovely, it's the wrong smile
He talked, talked, talked
Angry about what?
Drink
I thought, I can make him stop
My beauty
My eyes
My eyes can make him stop
It's not his smile, but such a lovely smile
That it's all right with me
Grabbed his hand and stared
He stared
We stared
How long is this going to take?
And he stopped
Dropped by my side
I win
You can't know how happy I am that we met
I'm strangely attracted to you
He kissed me
I kissed back
Tongues
Clothes
Why did I doing this again?
There's someone I'm trying so hard to forget
Don't you want to forget someone, too?
See, I win
Body over mind
Body wins
You lose
You lose me
I lose
They're not his lips, but they're such tempting lips
Then it's all right, yes, it's all right with me