- Non-Erotic Poetry
- Foul Shrimp in the Curtains
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The sheriff came because she would not leave
The house when love was old
And lost in lawful action.
She learned the trick from mother once
To hide in curtain hems the shrimp
She boiled the night before.
"Had some shrimp, I see," the sheriff said,
"Smells good, reminding me
Of Terrebone along the Gulf."
"Your copper-plated smile
Makes me feel at home," she laughed
And handed him the keys.
She had, of course, the last of laughs
At coffee klatch.
"I laugh so hard I cry," she says,
"Harry sold it back to me,
Was so damn fuckin' mad, he took the curtains with him!"
Now late at night before her mirrored self
Before the tousled sheets
She trains her face
This way or that,
Perhaps a twinkle of the eye
Or furrowed brow for dawn tomorrow
To say again "I laugh so hard I cry."
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