I don’t get it she says

all smooth

this is not like the poetry I loved

got taught in school

yes yes I say

you will get it

no yours is harsh unkind

I want rhymes about love

it’s in there I say

if you look hard enough

oh no she goes

I need a story of good lives

not two drunk men in alleys

scrapping over mean lipstick girls

fighting with steel flashing knives

where’s the love in any of that?

oh its there alright

maybe if you’d try a little empathy

feel in your bones

how tough your life has to be

to fight on a moonless night

for the comfort of a store-bought whore

your blood dripping on the stones

no place to run to

here you make your stand

howling into the emptiness

your short life has brought you to


it isn’t art if you have to explain

she said

it was about then

I began wishing

I had my own switchblade

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