Treat

Party girl is out on the street
Pretty and kind prim and neat
Spices and flour eggs and meat
Ever so nonchalant and discreet
A long red skirt over nylon feet
Love is blind in sweltering heat
 
Gliding the city out on the beat
Selfish and wild polite and sweet
Outdoing daddy his ultimate feat
Likeliest she was likely to meet
Looking out for something to eat
Now she's about to run into Pete
 
In his Buick he suckles her teat
A rich boy a member of the elite
Not once had he had to compete
Or even imagine a personal defeat
Rod of iron and brain of concrete
And she is chirping like a parakeet
 
Union was perfect and complete
She obeying on the leather seat
Tune in his headphones on repeat
It was well past a running retreat
Packed her down with some peat
And checked messages to delete