As she put on his makeup and straightened his tie,

She felt breathy, and slightly light headed,

With a twinkle of mischief agleam in her eye,

Through his fingers, her own she then threaded.

Gently caressing his cold blueish skin,

Of formaldehyde, there were still traces.

She was tickled to find rigor mortis set in,

Staying stiffness in just the right places.

Mounting beds at the morgue proved a somewhat unglamorous

Grave, necromantic endeavor,

But, for the cadaverous, Alma was amorous.

Best summer internship ever.

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