platitudes and attitudes
she said
“to find good love,
be receptive, never deceptive,
always ever, never never.”

I listened, warming,
but warning her,
“rhyming is the sophistry
of those who cannot
decide what to write
next”

I drove away,
in just my pajama top,
(my bottoms
retired at the crime scene)
lest she
****** macabre me
like in an Agatha Christie.

I foresaw a drama
developing of her
hanging me by
my bottoms pj,
knotted two by too
tightly trite my leggings
drawn to prevent
the rhyming of my breathing,
each pant to
peeve me
into panting:
one leg named
moon and
the other,
June.

so I decided
what the heck!
I’ll go firstly,
hanging her early,
for the greater sake
of literature