One look, and I want desperately 
to take your 
breath away for a dirty weekend. 

When I glimpse down your blouse, my 
heart pounds 
like two deaf cats tap-dancing on an old wash-tub. 

This 
isn't just love, for when my soul falls into your eyes 
I know that on the 
great sweater of life, 
I've found another fuzz-ball like myself. 

Someone who wouldn't look at a print 
of Da Vinci's "Last Supper", 
and 
ask what a table like that would cost, 
nowadays. 

Someone who knows that 
love 
isn't what you have to do 
if you can't find your TV Guide 

anywhere.