My time machine worked.
Oh, my time machine worked!
I was courted by "the" David Hume.
Some might call him odd with that powdery wig.
One could scoff at his three-cornered hat.
GQ may not rate him, some may not date him
But I was aroused by his chat.
We had a fine date and to you I'll relate
the moments we shared ~ he and I
I must admit strangely, all this has changed me-
Progress is no longer defined.
He showed me his dictionary; I quoted Wikipedia.
We dabbled in cards and gin.
Oh, how he dazzled me with his gift of lithography
as we shared our thoughts on sin.
When he bragged about "Spinning Jenny"
and how she could gyre and perform.
I started to blush and giggled oh hush
and asked if she dabbled in porn.
He asked if we still use the guillotine.
I assured him that mindset we share.
but, we will inject you 'till the oxygen rejects you
or stop your heart in an electrical chair.
He referenced the Boston Tea Party.
I giggled and lowered my fan.
Smiling sweetly, I whispered discreetly
"The Tea Party will happen again."
He wore a frockcoat.
I wore a thong.
He donned, gold-buckled shoes.
I displayed my
He replied with an
uh oh ~
and called me an infidel muse.