Met her at the Star Wars convention.
Did I mention she was looking for love?
Had to call her bluff, “Lady, you don’t mean how that sounded.
The thousand-pound dude in the ‘no fat chicks’ shirt’s astounded.”
Thought she’d take it back, revoke, rescind, rewind, retract.
“You heard me,” she said, “I want any man here
to descend in the cave where you conquer the fear,
and I’ll steer you to side of the force that you choose.
Somebody’s man enough here — now who?”
This girl, now you have to understand,
would not look out of place on the arm of an attractive man,
so the geeks in attendance got jaws on the floor. One extends his
saber but he tripped on his cloak. I stepped to the front then I spoke:
“I ain’t spitting game, look, I got a Wookiee hat on.
But these guys here are used to getting spat on
by girls. See, you put em in shock.
And this ain’t the right con to quote Mister Spock
but it’s highly illogical to me.” Girl looked in my eye, said, “is your mind free?
‘Cause I got something for you. It is shiny, it is clean.
Come on up and I’ll adore you with my yellow laser beam.”
Sitting in her room upstairs,
watching her wind up the buns in her hair,
I declare that “I’d like to be Luke
unless that’s a little bit too perverted for you.
I could be Jabba, a Jawa, an Ewok
when we talk, ‘oo ga la gee bla!’
Wait — I seen all the flicks, all the books that I read,
don’t remember any character tied to the bed.
But that’s all right, I’ll just pretend that I’m encased in carbonite.
And why that’s a nice gold bikini; you make that?
Shows off what you got, no mistake: that’s
one fine view of Chewbacca you’re giving me.
Lower that down here, we could be living the
linguistic lifestyle of the protocol droid.”
Here comes the part where I’m not overjoyed.
“Fire!” she said, and before I could scream,
got a steaming mouth full of yellow laser beam.