You were the queen of the arcade, fast talk,
quick temper, darling of my college days –
When your entanglements betrayed a maze
of dead-end arguments, you’d take a walk
 
(a-wawk-a-wawk-a-wawk-a-wawk-a-wawk...)
Then double-back with a voracious phrase
to turn the tables on that hungry gaze,
an adolescent male's unpleasant sulk.
 
You were the campus deity of choice,
an Aphrodite to the lucky few,
A Circe, a Diana, to rejoice
in the luckless pining of your retinue.
 
What appetite, what love allowed your voice
the art to turn the men around you blue?