Lula’s Got Legs by Steve Sibra

“It’s the Bataan Death March inside my pants”

she said once, as I was busy

Pivoting on her axis.

My only reply:

“It all looks good, let’s keep in practice.”

 

“They call her spineless,” her ex-lover told me

“but take her out on the road and open her up –

Man, that girl’s got legs!

And the little dog just sits and begs!”

 

Wherever she walks the midget dog accompanies

most of the time he is what’s in between her knees

If all Hell breaks loose for an open field run

the dog disappears until everyone is done

 

“Roll me on my back it’s like Thanksgiving dinner”

she told me once as I wildly fired my rivets

“Construction work is hard,” I intimated

I was giving her treats while the dog just sat and waited.

 

“This relationship is over when I say so”

but she never called a halt

just the threat then more promise

I kept waiting for the word, like some Doubting Thomas

 

I finally had to call the pound, the dog became unruly

“You will never see me again”

she said, “which means I love you truly.”

So it all ended when least expected, dashed my hopes

 

Then resurrected the dreams of space and time

before crazy music played and made her mine

I slept a week, tossed, turned and sweat

Awoke to find the dog — now my pet.

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