"While tracing with a fingertip
the outline of my thigh and hip,
he erotically began to strip
and said that it would be a trip
to navigate a sailing-ship
by stars at night and radar-blip
and gave me some champagne to sip.

All the data in the micro-chip
can't emulate the truly hip.
He said the test of true friendship
was forgiving any little slip.

It was sunshine, surf, and skinny-dip
until, one day, he lost his grip
like icebergs only show a tip.

I'm dancing while he cracks the whip,
his teeth that grind, his teeth that nip,
and I'm complaining with a swollen lip,
"But how could he be so unhip?"

03/27/2008