POLITICALLY ERECT ( © Words & music by Paul F. Cowlan)

Apparently the ideal contemporary love song should mention every existing minority pressure group by name, together with appropriate slogans and calls for solidarity; whereupon anyone not so mentioned may justifiably consider themselves ‘marginalized’. Any referenounce it as sexist.

I love you for your mind. I swear it’s nothing physical.
I wouldn’t want to touch you or ruffle up your hair.
It isn’t sexual desire. I know that’s wrong. I’ve damped that fire.
My love is of a very special kind.
I love you for your mind.

It isn’t sex-appeal. I’m not that kind of chauvinist.
Although we haven’t spoken yet my head is in a spin.
We’ll sit at least six feet apart and speak as equals, heart to heart.
I’ll close my eyes, pretend that I am blind,
and love you for your mind.

Hello, my name is Frankie. It’s not gender oriented.
I’m glad that it’s not macho or it might have put you off.
I’ve never seen you here before. Do you like Russian novels? Or
perhaps you are mathematically inclined?
What stimulates your mind?

I’d really love to know you. Of course, I don’t mean carnally!
I’ll hang on every labial and phoneme you let fall.
Agglutinative gutterals are beautiful, so utter all
the fricatives and aspirates you can find.
I love that kind of mind!

The truly liberated know that sex is something evil, so
they’re permanently grumpy and as miserable as sin.
But passion is insideous, so they make themselves look hideous,
and wear the ugliest clothing they can find.
So everyone will love them for their mind.

Excuse me. Do you always need such intimate proximity?
You’re standing very close indeed and breathing in my ear.
What was it I was going to say? My Reason is in dissarray.
Your lips are soft and perfectly aligned.
But what about your mind?

Existential. Exponential. Socially responsible.
Iconoclastic. Digital. Communicative phase.
The opportune occasion. The political equation.
My logic is beginning to unwind.
Do I still have a mind?

I’m hyperventilating, and I don’t know what’s come over me.
It must be just a train of thought you’ve managed to derail.
I never knew the intellect could have such an extreme effect.
It seems such feelings have been much maligned.
Can you read my mind?         

What’s that you just did!? I think I’ve fused a ganglion!
Such flawless body-language means I’ll take your mind as read.
That intercrural demi-squeeze engorged all my extremities!
Aren’t human bodies wonderfully designed?!

Not to speak of human minds!