What Polly Wants

Polly wants a cracker,

she wants a crack at Macka,

she likes the way he fills a room,

as much as he fills his pants.

She likes the cut of his jib,

she likes the point of his whit,

she likes the width of his shoulders

and the look of his thighs that thrust,

anything but slow.

She likes the kindness of his smile, 

his intelligence beguiles,

his teeth are straight and white,

his personality exudes might.

But mostly she likes his deep, velvet tones

that give her a thrill down below.

Polly and Macka, she says it over and over...

...until it means something.

And she can look up from dinner

and feel something real.