Headlines

Terry, won’t you tell me what is your real name?
I’d like for it to be Teresa, just like my favorite saint.
I doubt you grew up Catholic, or no longer are at least,
But the way you ask your questions, you oughta been a priest.

I never read the headlines, but always read the bylines.
Because it’s not what you know, it’s who told you so.

Maureen, you might blush if I tell a dirty joke,
But I bet you like martinis and an after-dinner smoke.
I know your mother’s letters made men second-guess
If those with most conviction were endowed with righteousness.

Amanda, I know you’re picky and probably a little prude,
But I don’t want to sleep with you, I just want to try your food.
So won’t you make us supper and pour a cup of wine?
I’ve heard about your husband, and I don’t want to meet him this time.