Sunday, July 5, 2009

Ripple, Do

wish I knew who you
wrote poetry to. wish
it were me, if we are
being honest, and i
do think honesty's

best. well, perhaps
not in all situations.
if i were a bank robber
hiding out in a chicken
coop I would not want

the farmer to confess
my location to the cops.
or if i were a wore and
my grandmother asked
what my new job was, i'd

probably rather my brother
say something like
"secretary", "waitress",
"soy bean farmer" or
something conventional

like that. as you are
not a cop, however, or
my grandmother, i prefer
to be honest. this may
not be best. i'm told a

lady should be coy. course,
this instruction - like the
bulk of the advise i am
offered concerning matters
of the heart - comes from

either old woman who have
not been laid in a very
long time, or gay men who
have also not been laid in
a very long time. so i really

don't know who you are
writing poetry two. though i
think that even if it is not
me you should go for it,
ripple the waters, tell her

whatever you've been wanting
to say. and - for gods sake -
don't be coy about it. don't
write a poem about wanting to
fuck someone, and never identify

who it is that you want to fuck.
- that's just frustrating, if
were being honest now. - because
if your going to ripple waters
do it with a shoe or a boulder.
your worth more then the ripple

of a pebble..