Poem, i give you my hand

This poem is nice-
it’s short and sugary.
It reminds me of
apple pie a la mode.

This poem is enticing-
it’s deep and dark
and mysterious.
It hides in dark corners and flings things
when it’s furious.
It is
erratic
and whimsical
and sits about with its head in its hands,
as if it’s going to write a novel,
but because it’s
so
unpredictable, it gets up, stubs out its half-smoked
cigarette and
leaves.
(In a huff.)

This is my favourite poem.
It’s funny and it sings pretty.
It’s a good lover, and flirts with frivolity.
It has a head full of ideas,
but when it looks into my eyes,
it stops worrying about the rhyme scheme.
“Rhyme schmyme”, it says,
then offers its hand,
gesticulates to the band,
and dances with me into the wee preface
of the next anthology.