- Non-Erotic Poetry
- Erratica
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Click hereI shuffle down the street
in order to keep from limping,
but it never works. Too much
clutter on the sidewalk, and I'm
not taking a chance on the gutter.
Not any more.
I spent too many days, even more
nights, clutching Dr Mad-Dog to
my chest and indulging in my own
brand of brown paper therapy after
the Peroxide Princess sent me to
the curb. But I got up, just like
I used to get up every time she
wanted me to. Morning, noon,
middle of the god-damn night,
Ain't my fault it had a hole, but
can't say anything but, "Here's
your check. How's she doing?"
- COMMENTS
unpredictablebijouover 15 years agoThis is a stellar little portrait. Your sense of phrase and rhythm is damn fine, and I like what a distinct voice you have. Voice is everything, really.
WickedEveover 15 years agoGREAT POEM! Love this: clutching Dr Mad-Dog to/my chest and indulging in my own/brand of brown paper therapy after/the Peroxide Princess sent me to the curb
Angelineover 15 years agoI love the metaphors ("brown paper therapy" "Peroxide Princess") and the ending really pulls the poem together and explains the title. Wonderful to see you poeming here again! :-)
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