Our chosen paths differ, it may be true,
But I have no quarrel with how you pursue
Your pleasures, and your flirting technique
Is both charming and, truth be told, sleek.

To observe from afar, then move in for the kill,
Be sure of success – what a sweet thrill.
Your favourite sport, as it is mine,
To score not by chance, but by design.

Remote as it seems that we reach bon accord,
We may still assume a handsome reward
In using our looks, our skills, and our charms;
A girl to deliver straight into our arms.

Dear lady, ‘tis clear to me what you prefer
And who is to blame you, looking at her.
Those sensual lips, and eyes full of mirth,
In me, as in you, to lust they give birth.

Thus let us enjoy her as much as we please
Take her to heaven with our expertise.
Her kissable mouth let not go to waste;
Her sweat and her juices – ours to taste.

And if by chance our lips should meet
Across those pink petals, salty and sweet,
Let’s lay down our arms and declare the bed,
With the maiden upon it, our DMZ.