Skip The Romance - (poem)

Sometimes I get lonesome but then I remember…

your smoking of cigarettes well past December. 

All of your premature ejects. 

All of your pathological projects. 

Chemicals as scents.

How you don’t repent at Lent,

familiarity as leisurely bred contempt. 

When you tell me where you were,

still wonder where you went. 

All that money was better spent,

and yet you still sent for her?

Despicable with a diploma. 

Murderous over a GED.  

She always asks for a ride and a buck thirty-five, 

it was the way she wore a maxi 

that devolved you to taxi 

and we competed for a Medusa heart.  

He hated how I coughed and how she didn’t fart.  

So I think I’ll skip the romance,

I get more love from my art.