Good Luck With That

I don't know about you
But women baffle me
They go out as peacocks
All preened and radiating
Colors everywhere

Boobs and bottoms
Projected onto screens
Eyes like planets
Mouths luring us in
Don't look at their feet

Especially if you're soft-hearted
Don't look at those soft rabbit feet
Toes stretching and curling and waiting
And if you've looked, don't touch them
Those inviting, seductive, soft pink feet

I don't know about you
But I adore every dripping inch of them
I salivate at the mere thought
They are the bag-women of original sin
And our challenge is to never get caught