There are two types of women, I think

though, one can’t be sure.

One, has always been free

busting out of her clothes

uninhibited.

She wears

matching underwear

a tigress

a wild, unselfconscious beast

who eats men, like lollipops

Driving at speeds of 144 miles per hour

in her vintage Ferrari

Red

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

and chase

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

after marriage.

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.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s