If you were nicer,
this would go a lot better.
If you were kinder,
I may like you more.
If you were sweeter,
we could go deeper.
If you were hotter,
this wouldn’t be a bore.

If you were smarter,
we could talk faster,
with shorter breaks,
for you “to understand.”
If you were fitter,
or more open, less bitter,
if you were better,
I’d be your man.

If your hair was longer,
your rough skin smoother,
if your pug nose perter
your underlip waxed,
if your boobs were more buoyant,
your voice much less cloyant,
then we’d be together,
my patience untaxed.

If you’d done what I’d said,
if your parents were dead,
in their homes we could tread,
and together we’d live.
But judgmental, you left
yourself now bereft
of constructive suggestions
I so thoughtfully give.