She told me her hair was brown
and I had no cause to think otherwise.
On the telephone we had described to each other our every detail —
She knew of my tall muscular frame
and my masculine beard.
And I had learned of her ample bossoms
and rosy red cheeks.
When we met I stood atop a chair
to look into her eyes.
I noticed that it was not her cheeks
that were red, but her hair.
“You lied”, I sighed
and her shame would not hide.
“If there’s one thing I can’t abide...”
“Wait!” she cried.
“Where is your beard!?”
“Oh” I replied.
And then disappeared.