You never had to bat your painted eyelashes,
or wear that short skirt, tight as a second skin,
or toss your hair in that way high school girls do
when they want to knock a man to the ground.
You never had to romance me, but you did.
It wasn't the chocolates, the quiet dinners,
or the perfume-dipped notes that lured me, either.
I'm more lustful than I am sentimental and honestly,
'twas never your heart under that blouse
that I wanted to touch so badly, anyway.
I never said it, but you hooked me on that first day,
when I rammed your shopping cart from behind,
gaping at your tomatos tumbling out of the basket.
Yet, I was the one, over-ripe, hanging heavily off the vine.
You never had to do anything, but pick me.
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