. . . girl
Her eyes say ‘come closer’.
Her hair falls down her shoulders like a blanket on her skin.
If you do you’ll never win.
She looks the same at every man.
That look says ‘I’m confection.
You can’t have a taste unless your doctor says you can.’
Her lips purse ever-so-slightly.
You think she wants to invite you out to spend some time with her.
The whole routine becomes a blur.
She says it all without a word.
She looks like pure perfection
And you’ll never ever see the likes of her again.
But she’s mine.
I know she’ll never leave me.
She’s fine,
And she’s never deceived me.
Other eyes admire and desire her too
And she smiles in response to all glances
From those who care to see all of her delicate lines
On the page where you’ll find
The two dimensions of my catalog girl.
They all say ‘she’s not bright.’
But when the spotlight is lit you can see her business sense.
It’s sincere intelligence.
She works so hard at what she does.
Intensity and concentration on her face shows
She is so much more than fluff.
Her shape’s like a tape.
She weight one-hundred-eight
And she looks so appealing
In clothing revealing.
Her heart’s on her sleeve.
That’s what you should believe.
She practices that come-on look.
Improves it more in every book.
She is the epitome of catalog girl.
One day soon
She will no longer possess the assets of those bygone days.
The years will pass just like a phase,
Nothing but memories in a haze.
And though her star will fade,
A little glory will remain upon a table near the chaise.
Catalog Girl
- Ray Jozwiak - Gonzo Piano
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