sonnet #498 by FisherKing.rgby@blogger.com

I'm dressing down and doing it placid
The sure fire means to secure his regard;
To try hard is bad as wobbling flaccid,
My chances with him a sure bet to retard.
My perimeters in place won't be marred
By my fiancee who's a polished dunce;
For his diamond grit I don't give a shard,
The new boy has what I saw in him once.
Opportune imminence any doubt shunts
To one side since my bust is ample;
I often lean forward in my manhunts,
Or else lewd eyes from a distance sample.
Our slow burning passion banks up robust,
Some nightstore heat exchanger of lust.

(Chorus)
Our slow burning passion banks up robust.
Our slow burning passion banks up sturdy.
Our slow burning passion banks up vigorous.

[Autocue for interactive movies called Autocube3]