I was very frustrated creatively and in a rut. I was going to various fairs and festivals and I decided I would write poems about what transpired at these festivals. Maybe I could put together a book of poems and sell them at the festivals. So this was a poem dedicated to a woman who I watched in the distance. Just for the record, I really am human, as this poem reveals:

The Epitome of Femme

The epitome of femme...
She's used to her jet stream
Catching men's libidos
In its trail.
It's her nature
She can't help
But leave men
Trembling at the thought
Of their dream fantasy
coming true
In the fountain of her youth.
And who might be worthy
Of the affections of this Goddess creature
Incarnated on earth
With perfect pleasing power
To manifest the secret ID
Of every lonely man/boy
Does she understand the power
That she wields
To make us
Weak in the knees
And ache in the groins
With that simple glance of innocence
Be ready when you meet the epitome of femme
To understand what's missing in your life.