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There was a taxi driver named Miguel
Whose wife, named Mary Lou, put him through hell.
He drove for many hours every day
So she could throw his hard-earned cash away
On clothes and pocketbooks and shoes and jewels.

Ah, the world is too full of such fools!
Better a wife who's plain and full of love
For you than one who's always thinking of
Ways to spend what you work hard to earn.
But those who wed for lust will never learn!
Never even thinking what a life
One might have to live with such a wife.

And so it was with poor Miguel, who drove
All day long on crowded, dangerous roads
To feed his wife's desire for brand-name stuff,
Of which, of course, she never had enough,
Too tired, mostly, to enjoy the charms
He had so long envisioned in his arms,
And, besides, too angry at her greed
To feel the slightest stirring of his need.

Still, it felt good when Miguel could see
Men stare at her and wish that they were he.

One day Mary Lou, as usual,
Was shopping at a nearby high-end mall
When she saw a lovely Prada bag
That made her cold heart ping and spirits sag,
For at a thousand it was quite a steal,
And yet no calculation could reveal
A way she might get cash enough to pay
For it. And so she found another way.

With dreams of that bag dancing in her head,
A little dark-brown clutch with hints of red,
She called a close friend of her husband, who
Her husband called a cousin. But she knew
That he would love to get her into bed,
Though he was never crude in what he said.

She asked him to take her out to lunch, which he
Was pleased to do, listening while she
Complained about her husband bitterly,
And how he treated her so stingily.

He was a loser, not worthy of her glance,
And here she was, trapped by circumstance.
All she wanted was a little clutch,
A tiny bag, it wasn't asking much,
But she knew he was sure to tell her no.
Oh how! Oh how could he reward her so!
All she did was love him, give him pleasure!
Other men would treat her as a treasure!

"I would," his friend Ramon at last broke in,
As she had expected, "were I him.
How much does that bag cost?" "Not much," she said.
"A thousand. It's a steal." He clutched his head.
"A thousand! I don't have that much! I would,
Believe me, give it gladly if I could.
For I have loved you from the moment I
First saw you in the glint in Miguel's eye
When he told me about you. And since then
I've wanted you without a word. But when
You just revealed your feelings, I felt free
At last to tell you what you mean to me."

"Oh, Ramon, my darling, never fear!"
She said. "I have a plan, as you shall hear.
We shall get my stingy husband to
Cough up the money for my bag, while you
Get everything you want -- and more -- today!
If you do precisely as I say."

That afternoon Ramon called up his friend
And asked him for a short-term loan, to tend
To an investment for which cash was due.
"How much?" Miguel asked. "A grand. Too much for you?"
"When can I have it back?" "Just till tomorrow."
And so Miguel allowed his friend to borrow
A thousand dollars from his cash reserve,
As true friends ever one another serve.

Straight from Miguel, Ramon went to deliver
The cash to Mary Lou, who gave the giver
All he could desire, and more than he
Had dreamed of in his wildest fantasy.
Then off she went back to the Prada store
To buy the bag that she was lusting for.

The next day Miguel inquired of his friend
About the loan. When did he intend
To pay it back? "I gave it to your wife,"
He said. "This morning. I swear upon my life!"
"I believe you," Miguel replied. "But she
Said nothing of this interchange to me."

Ramon shrugged, so Miguel said nothing more,
But waited till they went to bed before
He asked his lovely wife whether she
Had gotten from Ramon the money he
Had lent him just the day before. "Oh, yes!"
She said. "And guess what I got -- you'll never guess!"

She hopped right out of bed, turned on the light,
As if assuming mutual delight,
And took out the Prada bag, a treasure
So beautiful it must give equal pleasure
To both of them. "It was a steal!" she said.
"I knew you wouldn't mind!" Then back to bed
She leapt. "Oh, thank you, thank you, thank you!" she
Cried out, smothering him with kisses, while he
Just lay there, hapless, helpless, hopeless, numb
To love and lust alike, thinking how dumb
He was, and how many miles he'd have to drive
To pay for this, and how he must deprive
Himself of little things he might enjoy,
While she, laboring to his member buoy,
Plied his body with exquisite art,
Engaging every morsel but the heart.

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