Strange as Can Be

Once on a train in south central Spain
a stranger sat right next to me.
And when he asked, “Are you the one I seek?”
I felt as strange as can be.

As I read Keats, surrounded by seats,
the one close was taken by he.
I must confess I felt a surge of pique,
followed by waves of ennui.

Although astute, I remained a mute
and kept reading my poetry.
Maybe he figured I just was a geek,
but I did not want to see.

With a slight poke he once again spoke
and this time he started with, “Gee.”
“You seem to be mild mannered and meek,
  suiting my needs to a tee.”

I dropped my book and gave him a look
and pounded the cap of my knee.
Then I said, “Not any day of the week!”
It was my plain honesty.

But as I peered I saw something weird
(and looking with care is the key).
“Strange as can be” got a serious tweak--
I saw that he was a she.

24 Lines (Rhythm: 9-8-10-7)
Writer’s Cramp
August 14, 2103