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




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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