Conceit

[Terrance]

My Luz's eyes are nothing like the sea;
Sex Wax is far more pink than her lips' pink:
If coke be white, why then her breasts are resin burnt;
If hairs be crab claws, my hands through spider crabs creep.
I have piped the brilliant surfer's lights at Jaco, green and blue,
But no such Luz de mar does Luz profuse;
And on some coffee steeps there, the nose doth find delight
But Luz's breath reeks of libations sweaty dance last night.