My Mother told me to Avoid Girls like you


Poetry doesn’t work

A nine to five

 

Nor does she live in the good part or

Bad part of town

 

But in the thick of everything

 

In the second story apartment

Above the burlesque jazz club

With the daily open mic night

 

She picks up shifts

When it is convenient for her

 

Living dollar to dollar

Selling rhythmic glimpses of her flesh

 

She is naturally seductive

Flirting with both women and men

 

She leaves you

Amazed and awed

 

But when you need her

You are left baffled

Scratching your head

 

STUCK

 

Knowing that your next fling with Poetry

May bring you power and clarity

You so deeply desire

 

She giggles while writers spend

Patience and sanity on her

 

She is very fickle and sometimes

Runs at the sight of a pen

 

But if you can catch her eye

The moment stands still

And the page becomes beautifully filled.

 

 


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