I see thee on a cold winter day, blue as the icicles.
 Cold; bold; I fold!--  Shit!  there was a full house, but there weren't two of a kind.

Until I chanced upon you, my sweet;
Your socks turned me on, the smell of your feet;
Your long spiked hair, glued into place;
The war paint (you call make-up) all over your face.
The earings, the piercings!  of your nipples and scream;

Were you just a dream?