Revised sonnet #190
I plonked the phone across its cradle pin
He couldnt say I wasnt neat and nice
He couldnt finish sentence fudge a win
It was his final feeble roll of dice
The vacuous venom ladylike yet vice
I was a fraud afraid to real time gob
I wished I didnt care turned cube of ice
Out loud I dreamt of ways to win the mob
I was his squeeze? I squirmed that charmers fob
I had the names of babes hed bed the while
The worst the fertile frump and sexy snob
I sifted gossip sore I gasped at guile
Ignore his lovely looks and cautious charm
Hes fickle fare in company heed qualm
Chorus charm magic witchery
