Oh! Bright Lady, blast that rude, cursed man
With his stinking cigars, and dirty mouth!
Leaving bloody shirts, smelly socks and cans
Of beer, crumpled in his bedroom, that lout!
He cares not for stares of kids on the stairs,
Or their giggles, whispers and stray chatter
Why last week, he gave poor Artie a scare
Growling, “Hey kid, what the hell’s the matter?”
“The best defense is a good offense, ‘Ro,”
Daring me to go Zeus on his behind
Ruins my class, and then off Logan goes
Not even one shred of guilt on his mind
Takes off to strip clubs whenever he likes
Tearing off till dawn on Scooter’s new bike.
Forget good examples, forget respect;
I’m not impressed by that cocky eyebrow
Then again, what’s a woman to expect
When’s he’s leering at Jean, that lucky cow…
Charles should have known better, to let him in
Scott should have known better, to turn his back
Jean should have known better, to bait his grin
Ooh, how I’m dying to give him a whack!
Dark, dirty secrets leaked out of his pores.
I knew he was trouble at my first glance.
Trouble with wicked, lazy hazel eyes.
Hot, juicy trouble in tight denim pants.
My calm and patience, he already took.
I’d had enough, when he gave me The Look.
It’s The Look that smolders and gels my knees
It’s The Look that has me losing good sleep
He uses that look to torture and tease
I lust for a man no woman could keep.
Who knows what dark dreams stalk his sleep at night
They spawned the Wolverine from a metal womb
Snarling, howling, blood drenched, fangs gleaming white
They gave him the tools to seal their own doom.
Six nine-inch long claws, sharp as a saber.
Don’t get too close, now, or you might just get hurt.
Rule of thumb, good fences make good neighbors.
If there’s no beer left, cut him a wide berth.
Want to talk with him, then it’s a standoff.
The most vital rule is simply, Hands off.
And you know, don’t it turn these brown eyes blue
And makes a shiver run all down my spine
Don’t tell me, “Naw, that’s just the lightning, Boo,”
Won’t convince me I’m like that all the time.
Lightning won’t make my blood boil in my veins.
Giiiirrrrl, when my stomach flip-flops, it’s a sign
Of the Apocalypse! Or that my brain’s
Gone on vacation, or for a brief nap
The man’s a vagrant, a killer, a thug.
I just can’t fall for that sensitive pap
Of him wrapping Marie in big bear hugs.
Marie, Kitty and Jubes turn to butter
When he comes on down to breakfast at lunch
Calls them Punkin’, Half-Pint, makes ‘em flutter
All future Mrs. Logans; naive bunch.
Isn’t that I think he’s bereft of a heart.
Boy channel surfs and takes pride in his farts.
Now if I was sane, I’d run far away.
Now if I was sane, I’d lock up my door.
Now if I was sane, I’d end it today.
But I am NOT sane, I’ve come back for more.
I hide it behind cool eyes and calm voice.
I hide it behind battle-worn leather.
I hide it behind school teacher’s ploys
I hide it behind bright shiny weather.
Can’t give it away, he’ll figure me out.
Can’t give it away! Just look at him leer.
Can’t give it away, ain’t nary a doubt.
…I’ve given it away, it’s pretty damned clear.
I’ve fallen for him, I didn’t mean it.
The boy’s still pussy-whipped for the Phoenix.
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