A woman will get her way
Because she is a woman, but not today.
The sun shines with neutral energy
On poor, downtrodden me,
Part broken heart, part headache, part poetry.
A colorful jazz boat
Remains bravely afloat,
Built by someone who hates jazz.
An ancient wood working expertise
Makes sure musical sleaze
Is bouncing off the harbor,
Lending bad taste to the traveling water.
With iambic pentameter I celebrate the past
As the mighty sun, falling fast,
Brings the smooth night, where I will make a child at last.
Innocent, this child, but a child afflicted soon
By the feminine unhappiness of the darting moon.