I'm not a poet. That is the worst ode to beauty ever seen by man. Perhaps a better description of her beauty would be say that she was a beautiful as ...y poetry was awful. Even the bartender was (mentally) laughing at me and I'm sure he hears this stuff constantly. Cut me some slack, I made it up on the spur of the moment. Anyhow, she didn't notice at all how awful it was. Instead, Mary's mind went into another one of those thought whirlwinds that I was coming to love. The thought that remained. She was ready for bed in nightdress and gown.“Ah! Zere you are.”“Brigitte! What are you doing here?” squeaked Jake dropping a wash cloth over his private parts.“‘Ave you read zat letter yet?”“And hello to you too. No! I haven’t”Brigitte let out a sigh of frustration, stepped back into the bedroom, picked up the letter and knife from the table and came back into the bathroom. She slit the seal open and unfolded page and handed it to him.She sat on the edge of the bath.“Read!”“But, but, a lady. More

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