For C.G., with a bit of poetic license.
Down at the paddle tennis courts, Carrie
And I sat, watching a fierce match. A man,
With a carton of M&Ms, tarried,
Approached, vending (he said) to fund a plan
Creating scholarships for bright, poor kids.
Hardened by experience, we sensed “scam,”
And politely waved him off, pleased to rid
Ourselves of one more desperate flimflam.
He moved on, paused, returned and stared at her
(Slender, fifty-one, face ovaled by hair,
Curly black, touched up no doubt), clearly stirred,
And said, quietly, “You have character.”
Now Carrie (who’s been around the block) gasped.
Sure, she’s been hit upon, leered at, flattered—
But that stuff was easy. This differed, grasped
Her viscera with prim praise that mattered.
He turned away, but she, wide-eyed, soul-axed,
Called him and bought a dozen candy packs.
(9/13/10)