From the Junk Email Bag

O.K. This was going to be my place for serious writing. Well, in case you haven't noticed, the well went dry long before it could even get primed. So, today I'm throwing all caution to the wind and giving you this, the email today I received from a long, nearly forgotten acquaintance who has kept me on her junk email-forwarding list.

THESE ARE ENTRIES TO A WASHINGTON POST COMPETITION IN THE STYLE SECTION, ASKING FOR A TWO-LINE RHYME WITH THE MOST ROMANTIC FIRST LINE, BUT THE LEAST ROMANTIC SECOND LINE:

My darling, my lover, my beautiful wife:
Marrying you screwed up my life.

I see your face when I am dreaming.
That's why I always wake up screaming.

Kind, intelligent, loving and hot;
This describes everything you are not.

Love may be beautiful, love may be bliss,
But I only slept with you 'cause I was pissed.

I thought that I could love no other --
That is until I met your brother.

Roses are red, violets are blue, sugar is sweet, and so are you.
But the roses are wilting, the violets are
dead, the sugar bowl's empty and so is your head.

I want to feel your sweet embrace;
But don't take that paper bag off your face.

I love your smile, your face, and your eye s --
Damn, I'm good at telling lies!

My love, you take my breath away.
What have you stepped in to smell this way?

My feelings for you no words can tell,
Except for maybe 'Go to hell.'

What inspired this amorous rhyme?
Two parts vodka, one part lime.

Ain't love wonderful?