There are two types of women, I think
though, one can’t be sure.
One, has always been free
busting out of her clothes
a wild, unselfconscious beast
who eats men, like lollipops
Driving at speeds of 144 miles per hour
in her vintage Ferrari
She has black hair
a smile that says, “You can’t catch her.”
That works for a time
until age catches-up with her
and men lose interest
some other smile.
I’ve met one woman like that
and I couldn’t catch her
though, I almost did.
I was driving a beaten-up slug bug
and she was in her supercar like a bad bond girl
slowing down for me.
I threw up my hands and said, “What’s the use!”
Then, she sped-off
and I never saw her again.
There was no checkered flag, no closure
I try to send her little messages
here and there
but they never work.
She isn’t one for nostalgia
or past defeated drivers
left in the dust
on that violent raceway of love.
The other girl
is one I meet regularly
She tries to look like the fem fatale
but she’s only pretending to be
and knows it.
It’s difficult for her to park
in a parking space.
She lines up her smart car between the lines
She worries about gas prices and the environment
She worries about what other women think
When she goes out on dates, she’s careful about who sees her in public, with him
She doesn’t want people to talk
The conversation must be held over coffee, with an optional walk
Things progress slowly
and then, drop-off
It’s like being dead
or in bumper-to-bumper traffic.
She has an important job, which gives her self-esteem
She talks about work constantly, because if she doesn’t
she starts to feel less important, almost right away
Then she starts in on you, and tries to make you perfect
It’s enough, for a man to throw up his hands
and become the other kind of man
The one, who never slows down
until, sudden impact.
Who knows, at that speed, he might actually catch
the uncatchable woman.
She drives men crazy
to do great things.
Both types of women strike fear into his heart
and he enjoys playing chicken with her on the highway.