she was talking, allowing her voice to carry.
“She is a loud, obnoxious froward woman!”
she was quiet, moving from rack to rack, circumspect and quick inside.
“She is an icy haughty bitch, too good to talk to us!”
she dressed with pizazz and showed a bit of skin with skillful concealment.
“She is a slut and slingin’ it around, the little prick tease!”
she dressed modestly, clothes fig leaves concealing naked limbs.
“She is such a shovel face, plain patty and doesn’t give a crap about how she looks!”
she smiled at his complement.
“She wants you, dawg!!”
she shot him a dirty look and told him to back off.
“She is such a c***! Can’t she just accept the attention and be grateful!?”
Sadly, all of those incantation,
spoken to control and other
came from both
male and female hearts,
brains turned off
and lights inside
darker than death’s own heart.