If I had to choose between a face full of cuteness
and what Veblen called the physiognomy of astuteness
I’d opt in a minute for the upraised eyebrow
arching hairwards as high as the eye goes.
A woman endowed with a skeptical look
is an enigmatic and inscrutable thing
while the merely cute “gal” is an open book
who makes sure you hear her catgut heart strings.
No, give me the moll with the look of dubiety
not the doll who’s preferred by all of society;
the lady who looks with a wild surmise–
by her gaze she conveys you’re the booby prize.
There’s no greater reward than the plaudients
you get from a tough female audience;
your every thrust is deftly parried
by a woman resembling the one I married.