20150718 (dating)

Women of Herrick’s and Marvell’s day

Had briefest of youth they’d quickly fade

To haggardry hop into the sack

At the slightest excuse fearing lads

Wouldn’t have them back 

Only the youngest best could smile

Lest a brown/yellow gap in the gum

Mark them virgins on the downward slope

If you were so lucky to keep your teeth

A wrinkle over your brow could

Seriously dent your days in dalliance

Like Elizabeth you’d need the power

Of life and death to keep a suitor

From making her wait or God forbid

Canceling a date

Their dresses saved many a lass

All those hoops could conceal

Even a ponderous ass 

Cottage cheese thighs

Which you’d not know until 

It was too late the dress hitched up

Buttocks displayed like matching

Library globes of the new world

Set side by side quick thinking

Might get you forgive me my sweet one

I’ve got to piss use the chamber pot darling

Don’t leave me alone oh hell in the dark 

They all look alike have a go old lad

She just might surprise you

Today there’s no question of what’s beneath

Not when 95% of the skin’s up for grabs

And translucent gauze does its best

To teasingly somewhat cover the rest

Almost all the girls have good teeth

Hooked here and there for years

At vast orthodontic expense 

Most of them bathe

Brush their teeth and their hair

Some will augment if they think themselves lean

With everything from Frederick’s to tissues

The handiest boost others fleshy and glad

Might try with spanx to rein ampleness in

To no avail it’s too much to hide

Nothing but genes and starvation

Will give you a thigh gap 

And a waif’s glazed over gaze

And the guys it’s a bit of a toss up

What women want the thin clear skinned

Tall ones might prefer other men 

You never can tell 

Drive up in a polished black Range Rover 

Silver Maserati or such

You’re fifteen points ahead on your quest

For the long legged buxom blonde for tonight

The swarthy Latin look of a dealer

Could let you score but do your research

She might be an alkie a druggie a cop

Or a whore whose judge escort might be out

For the time in a rest room farting belching galore

She might be somebody’s wife from the burbs

Bored to tears while her husband’s away

To some God-awful convention they

Have every week but it pays for her pearls

And her little black dress and her meds

For all the STDs he’s 

Brought home with his pay

There’s no room for coyness

Twixt modern girl and boy-ness

No seductive repartee composed

In hours of rewriting

He seems to have it all

Should I run a credit-check on her

Ask for his last six W-2s

If his car runs out of gas 

In the middle of the woods 

I’ve enough to call a cab

I know just where to kick

Where's a girl supposed to find

A decent guy

Nowadays

c. J.S.Manista, 2015