Dangerous Women

According to Joyce, we buck like goats,

but that’s the least of your worries

when you get yourself a red-headed woman.

To begin with, we haven’t souls,

but yours will do. It's nothing for theives

who stole the fire of hell to wear atop our heads.

It may be the cause of our fiery temperaments, as it's been said.

We may not be any good at making butter, but

it’s no big feat for a red-headed, green-eyed witchy woman

(so says the Malleus Maleficarum) to cast a spell

to hold you helpless in our red hot thrall.

The Russians know, there has never been a saint with red hair.

We have been burned alive in ancient Egypt

for the appeasement of Set.

Spaniards revile the children of red-headed Jesus-killing Judas.

We are in league with the red planet -- aggressive,

difficult, violent, yet still we bruise too easily.

We fly freak flags. We fly red flags. We throw you red herrings.

Take a little walk with us along the thin red line.

Red is the color of dirty districts, alerts, and scares,

of unconscious necks and obstructionist tape.

Of deadly choking tides.

Annie, Daphne, PeterPan, Pippy, Archie, Raggedy Ann.

The Little Red Corvette was much too fast.

Take the red pill and get a peek behind the curtain at the

gears that turn the world.

If you want trouble, find yourself a red-head woman.