Classic Poem

Yeh, I know her
Comes from this neighborhood
Guys go bananas
when they see her
the way bees
zero in
on quince blossoms:

Puss, puss,
the forbidden female:
never get enough of that;
sell their own mothers
(they think) to dive
into the puss of voluptas.
But let me tell you,
she's bad news.