melissaahowells
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I've been around some
and a lotta lonesome and most times I know I'd make a good friend the sorta-kind of get you going and getting you outta that spot that I've been a pal-around who makes you wanna skip into town or around the block again I share what I have even when its my all I'm a real suspicious character maybe that why I don't have a tribe but I have a howl of hurt I befriended the Lone Gunmen and left my hat and coat at the Thrift so I could no longer be identified I won't chomp down on the bit nor the gossip of the doomed its often been easier to live astray off the shift and far-flung away and very alone sometimes to stay alive I've had to live loosely and keep my options available and on the fly-- with my entanglements on the down-low yeah I once was that Ancient Navigator that Situater that out-on-loan pole cat improvising myself when I'd no more trick in my hat then I found me --the girly somewhere lost twixt and tween and woman and a child if you know the kind I mean thought she was a tosser and a scrapper and a keeper of the keys she's tough on the rind side and silly underneath she a genuine juicy-lucy and I'm pretty certain no one's yet borrowed her style we mix-a-lot but nothing -flatter-fancy we may mess it up so we can make it up she's a jolly-good lotta fun a patient partner the kind that makes my heart reach and if take a dip or two I know I'll never fall... so I've mended up my breaches and I'm counting down my wanderin' days I've simmered down my moving on and I've taken up new tee pee ways we're getting on in years but mostly getting along she tests my metal she takes me out for a smile we play the course, set our sails she loves the way I sing my songs she likes to curse she's overtly expressive she's reminds me of a cat who's always first we like to tussle she likes to tango we like to cuddle she peels me mangos we like to stay up late and fill in our gaps and spice up the urge I've settled in gotten comfortable no longer shifting my weight out the door I'm the precious dust she's swept up I am her synagogue I am her temple I am her church we are the future I am her tasty fly she's the Momma spider I'm her catch her reason why. LEGAL COPYRIGHT FOR THIS POEM 7:38PM PST TIME 5/11/2021 AND DATE STAMPED AND ALSO FOR THIS POET/WRITER M. A. HOWELLS AND ALSO FOR THIS LEGALLY REGISTERED AND COPYRIGHTED SITE TITLE MELOO STRAIGHT FROM HER TILT-A-WORLD Vote for this poem |
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