Comment-allez vous? Parlez vous Francais?
Every pearly word that the pretty girl says
in schoolgirl French, laboriously learnt;
yet an amateur's attempt at foreign speech!
And I, with bastard, self-learnt tongue,
ranting, raving, showing off phrases
and words I do not yet fully understand.
Nevertheless upon her each word I hang!
And so does she,
with my fluent chatter,
or is she?
What would not a young man do,
to impress a girl, and woo her too,
showing off subconsciously,
(chest expanded spaciously)
driven, of course
by that old instinct in our genes,
to make an end, whatever the means.
My metre fails me, I try again,
and finally exhausted let it go.
Later in the day, or night as may be
when her testosterone-stirring presence
has vanished, and reality
comes back in full force;
was she? Wasn't she?
Did my incoherent sputtering,
and French-sounding verbiage
(But it was the genuine thing)
have any effect on her
seemingly wonder-stricken face?
O testosterone, you old trickster,