Whoa.. You’re beautiful!
But I am not. My hair is curly
And all twisted and black –
And my soul – a little bit more.

No. I am perhaps not
The pretty poet girl.
My neck ain’t draped in pearl.
Caress me in your words,
And I will drape mine
All around your soul.
I may not have
That pretty poet’s ass.
But there’s no way –
I won’t caress you in my sass.