Brush

Thought I’d got the old brush off,
Well, just maybe you had to rush off;
Waited outside,
Figured I’d give you a ride
Back home since we seemed to be on a date;
You’d got all dolled up, I thought I must rate,
But after a while, despite your quiet smile,
No text, no phone call,
Maybe some reason to appall,
I thought about the deal,
Your physical appeal,
Probable post-personal drama trauma
And decided to piss off, and get a lamb korma.
So you got the shits,
Told me I was out of my wits
Should’ve waited around
While you the young bucks tried to astound;
Bit too much salt, no wounds to rub it in
My meal came to a halt, as did my near self sin.