Saturday, August 28, 2010

Histrionic Hotline

A window crept up
drunk and panicked, she tugs me
for easy answers.

I offer transit,
shelter from an annoying
fate dealt quick this night,

she swiftly refuses,
evading me again, I'm a
a contingency,

handy hankie
for life's snot cropped in crevasses
perfect for pushovers,

not suave high rollers
who get to hold her
in wild moonlit trysts,

pathetically,
I look to persist, starving
wolf with lapdog's moves,

cowed samaritan,
when her crisis ends, I am
tossed, bloodied and used.

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