Mr Mascellani's Musings

She came to me with her problems,
tears falling down her moon face.
I looked at her red shoes,
her legs,
her boobs
as I stroked an imaginary beard
and pretended to listen
while words like "pregnant" and "abortion"
floated past my perverse thoughts.

She wasn't my lover;
I hadn't impregnated her.
She had been my friend Joe's mistress
but then he left her
hence her tears and her question,why?

I looked up from her chest
and into her eyes
put my hand on her shoulder
and promised that all would be well.
But in my mind,
I was not such a gentleman.
in my mind,
I did her doggy style in a field of tall poppies
while she wore her red shoes.