Some of you may have read and remember my poem of a few weeks ago entitled Follow My Instincts. Daniel Farmer, one of our AD colleagues, suggested in his comment to the poem that I write a follow up poem about the "girl with the curls" that I made reference to in the last line of the original poem. Here finally is the follow up (plus the original poem).

Follow My Instincts, Part II
By John Herlihy

The natural beauty sat in the bar’s corner with a head full of curls,
Sipping her drink with open relish and eyeing me as when a flag unfurls.
My head at first began spinning like a top that just whirls and whirls;
Nothing comes easy is my notion, except perhaps a baton that twirls.

Lazy eye-lids flippin’ and flappin’ with no attempt at any disguise;
At first, her flirting had no sense of true appeal leading me to surmise.
Whether she knew something that I didn’t, ready to offer me a surprise;
But as said elsewhere, I just follow my instincts to ward off sudden demise.

Still, curiosity has a way of digging in to find its rightful place under the skin;
I raised my head to attention; my face spreading wide with an honest grin.
I had spent the evening quietly and now seemed to be heading toward sin;
The night critters were whispering, but you could hear the drop of a pin.

Who could account for the likes of such a beauty with the air of a desperado?
She offered her feminine wares with insinuating eyes with this false air of bravado.
She leveled the distance between us by beckoning me with her finger like a Mikado;
I arose from my booth as in a trance, making my way into the canyons of Eldorado.

Like I say, I am in tune with my instincts and follow my intuitive habits to a tee;
This time, my Colt .380, stiletto, and hidden baton were as useful as a chickadee.
How can I protect myself against temptations that lure like the island of Capri?
All the tonics of the world cannot hold up against the pleasures of a dry Chablis.

She sipped the wine like a demur maiden, but left telltale lipstick marks on the glass;
Her eyes shone with the light of brimstone, paving the way into a deadly morass.
I stood stock still as though in shock when I finally beheld her eyes as molten brass;
Glittering with seduction and false charm as though seasoned with the wines of Alsace.

No words need be spoken between us; the eyes gave each other secretly away;
I turned to take my leave before receiving a bill I could not rightly afford to pay.
My instincts have served me well once again without the need of anything to say;
Good night and good luck I managed to mumble to myself as I quietly went away.


The original poem

Follow My Instincts
By John Herlihy

I have the habit of following my instincts wherever I go;
I never question their warnings from my head to my toe.
We are made up of three parts, body, mind and heart;
Pure instinct sows them together when they fall apart.
Sometimes people lie to my face as they try to set me up;
My instinct sees the lie in their eyes as clear as a buttercup.
What about those feelings of paranoia I have to deal with.
My instincts filter out any suspicion as it passes thru their sieve.

For more serious issues, I tuck my brass knuckles in my pocket;
My Colt Mustang .380 fits trimly into my boot as in a socket.
For good measure, if some hangdog bloke even looks my way;
I don’t want to be caught on my left foot with nothing to say.
Whenever I encounter a cool blade who tries to be frightening,
My stiletto slips into my hand like a shard of cold lightning.
Oh, one last thing just in case some feckless thief tries to take me on,
I have a special pocket sewed into my pants with a collapsible baton.

Meanwhile, I am just going to sit at the bar and have a smooth drink,
Stare off into the distance with nary a coherent thought to think.
The smoke of my cigarette sends calligraphic messages into the air,
I make no attempt to read them, but run my fingers through my hair.
I move away from the fellow next to me wearing an ill-fitting suit,
By the look on his face, my gut feeling tells me he’s a potential brute.
Like I said, I follow my instincts as I pass through many unsafe worlds.
Now who is the natural beauty over there with that head full of curls?