she’s smiley and polite

what a pretty, small delight!

and she’ll laugh at all your jokes

even though you’ll forget she ever spoke

but don’t assume she’s weak

uneasy silly dumb or meek

she’ll go home

and all those feelings she won’t be able to postpone

will find their way into her little black book

a nook

for all her rhymes and riddles

which she sends out like irretraceable ripples

into a world where old women knit

a grand tapestry to reveal that, really, you ain’t shit.

it’s not that she lied to you

everything she said was true –

that you are an artist and worth the effort

but so is she, and she is not for your comfort.

maybe you, in your Ray­Bans and poetic, black coat

who thinks he can float

without ever falling down

needs to briefly feel like a clown

to give your dreams reality

to show you the ugly truth behind creativity.

one photo says it all,

so swipe that finger, I promise you two will have a ball.