A Cat In Hell's Chance

A girl I know, or at least wish I did,

she had a certain way.

She always seemed to look through my skin

when I was out of things to say.

I'd make bland comments about the weather

and ask about her day.

She'd reply with an indifferent sniff

knowing my acting meek.

Her social skills had gained her fans;

my own made me feel weak.

Yet, despite myself, I unsheathed my tongue

and dared myself to speak.

She used well known aphorisms

to ward off romance.

But who condemned the cat to hell

and who gave that cat no chance?
I posed to her these ponderings
and asked her for a dance.
And so it was that philosophy
out-jostled social wit,
and even with the blandest badinage
you can be well read and writ.
There may have been no sunset fandango
but I'm happy with my lit.