my dream girl's made

my dream girl's made of human being
and self-esteem, and chicken wing,
and oxygen, and made of sex
(oh pretty much, what you'd expect)
and maybe me, a little bit (well,
not much more than that will fit
- you can't be made
of someone else, to any
large degree that helps)

She's made of standards
- real damn high.
Hard liquor, poured
in soft drink fizz,
and mental health, and just a bit
of some kind of delicious pie,

and beer and wine, and maybe milk
and cereal, and peanut-butter
sandwiches with peanut-butter:
creamy style and smashed-in
thin potato chips, for just
the perfect salt and crisp.

She's also made
of marble skin,
with blush of evening
sunset rose
at close of day.
And all the other
good that fits,
like skinny clothes
- a little tight,
sometimes! Like life
in second skin, it's
not uncomfortable,
I'd have to say: For me
at least, it fits.
I like the way. For her,
I think she's conscious that
I wear her well, and she wears
me, we make each other look
so good,

but that some other guy might be
a slightly better fit
for her.

Well maybe, yes
he probably would.