W. D. Chase
She has the same form as mine, this one of many.
"Women, they're all alike."
Wow! I hear them say, Look at that, what a set,
Admiration with a dirty leer.
I wonder what she.... I bet she.... If she....
Hardly a fan club.
I wasn't seen, or was I, as they left.
What would it matter.
I am like her, someone's daughter, mother,
Sister or even lover.
Snickers echo down the hall, I hear, no feel,
She's all yours.
Who was just given away, without a thought?
Who has the right?
Those are questions that won't bother them,
I have heard it said they think it crude of me,
To dislike this form of revelry.
I guess they'd know about that sort of thing,
These experts on courtesy.
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