don't fall for their tales,
their trapping words
intended to capture all manner of
literary loving girls...
while they, these mopoets^ are perfectly content
to keep on looking
"for the perfect one..."
to write about,
the greatest love affair in all of
his-story
but only after getting first
a close dose of,
a teeming taste of<
her
"inspiration"
He tells them that
after the first date,
he'll go home thinking:
"I could drink a case of you"*
but usually but a glass,
at most,
a bottle, a month,
a satisfactory suffice,
and it's onto the next write
that's why the FBI labelled him,
a dangerous serial poet,
his mot
to be trusted,
not, no, no...no!
Ah men! Ah poets!
somebody should pass a law....
4:03am
meanwhile it is nearing six years...as she likes to say, she picked me out of a lineup, and
fingered me instantly(as-a-bad boy!)
^Mopoets = male only poets