I Get Girls’ Numbers (Poem)

Saturday is here it’s time to don
My grade-A party suit.
I’m sure that I will come upon
A babe who’s really cute.
Chicks dig me, yeah, they like my style
They think I’m clever, cool.
They talk with me for quite awhile;
A stud, I do so rule.
I think I meet chicks from TV,
This ain’t no shuck and jive;
The numbers that they give to me
All start with five-five-five.

City Girls

In his teens, the Complete and Total Loser visited the city just once or twice a year, if that, despite living just a short train ride or drive away. 

That was suburban life in the 1970s for the unadventurous types; cities were dangerous places where the likelihood of being a crime victim was high. It was far safer to stay trapped in the suburbs, with its lawns to mow, leaves to rake and rides to shopping centers and movie theaters to be had. 

When he did journey to the city, it was the girls that impressed the Loser most. 

Suburban girls were gentle and soft. They spoke in modulated tones and had no accents. Their clothes were expensive and staid. They dressed like younger versions of their mothers, who knew your parents or your parents' friends.

The city girls wore halter tops, smoked openly and used double negatives with thick accents, dropping their g's, swallowing vowels and swearing. Their breasts were firm and you could see their nipples. Their cheeks were scarred by acne but their arms and shoulders were smooth and muscled, powerful. They were daughters of men who worked with their hands and they'd fight other girls for dates with men who wore uniforms. 

They were so far from anything the Loser knew they may as well have been Ming Dynasty concubines for all their mystery.

A tough, city girl holds a baseball.