she can be no other than who she is OR this shit don't rhyme

she's the girl the husbands call on a night their wives are distant
she's the girt the young men visit on a night their heart needs a listen

she's the girl that gives her love, and learns of them more than any
she's the girl that no on knows nor takes the time to see

she's the girl that never gets naught but brief interlude on their path to another
she's the girl that knows what boys like, their dick needs a kissn'

"Your body for my soul, fair swap, cause cheap is how feel..." ~ Cowboy Junkies

mooring

gone are they

the holders of her past;
to ash one or two
to dust the other

one still walks about
never to reach
and the final?

new recollections
immersed is he in making

while she wanders
loose in the world


"Here I go when I don't know why
I spin so ceaselessly..." ~ Dancing Barefoot, Patti Smith

trying

I think

perhaps I asked

for a certain something

too young and too

often, desiring it too

much, and the Universe

laughed the way she does

ominously and gave

me a different path...

there’s poetry in that