Poison Ivy Doesn't Mean It

Poison Ivy doesn't mean it
Unlike Nettles, whose sting is perfectly intentional
Poison Ivy has no idea why everyone is avoiding it
Nettles, meaty and nutritious, lurches at the next offender: "Get away! I don't want to be your soup!"
It is like that girl running in the park every morning
Fluid like mercury, with a swinging pony tail
If you try to flirt with her, you'll know the wrath of Nettles
Poison Ivy thinks, with some habitual sadness,
"I am not like Nettles. If someone were to come and try eating me, I'd be very happy indeed. I would not mind. No, Sir! You will not be stung by me today. Soup or stew or whatever - I will be yours"
It has no idea.
It thinks that it is simply not very tasty.
It blames its woody texture and plain looks
It suspects three-leaf patterns are out of fashion
No, it is not intentional at all
Nothing that is discovered with a long delay ever is
Pregnancies, STDs, resentments
Many things that look evil
Are merely born of truth being so well-hidden
Go trace the source of this awful itch in your heart! Good luck with that!
No, Poison Ivy doesn't mean it
It was fucked by God and now it is the unpopular kid, lonely and rather angry at life
I feel for her
And I pick up my gloves and go to the park ready to flirt with that girl again
Nettle soup is good
Stinging is sexy when it is done with such vitality
All part of the game
And I will stay away from Poison Ivy
Even though it's alienation makes me feel very sad
A state of affairs that can not ever be explained to her
One truth she needs to know most urgently and would most suffer from knowing
That her caresses hurt for reasons neither one of us can control