Standing on the corner,
He whistles at the girls,
He sticks his left thumb in his belt
And with his right he twirls
The ends of long mustachios
While then he parts his lips
To show his glinting grinning teeth
With golden gleaming tips.
His shimmering shirt of ruddy silk
Is open to his breast
Upon which soft and curly fur
Says, lie here, be my guest.
His leather pants show every hill
And valley, road and seam,
The girls with lowered eyes all see
His pointy boots, a team
Of horses pointing to their feet
And panting for a match,
One stud, two mares, the reins are taut,
A second they must catch
Before life slips behind a cloud,
The evening holds its breath;
And then they pass, the corner gone,
And gone fate worse than death.

Linda Hepner

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/moonlight-5/