They come out in droves
Huddle across the room
Swoop in for the kill
Drooling and staring
I’m snarling and glaring
They make me downright uncomfortable
Should have worn a baggy sweater
Vultures circling
Occasionally touching down in the desert
To chew on the rotting carcass of my goodwill
Sometimes telling me I’m beautiful
I’ve got great legs
I’ve got a wonderful smile
I’ve got a hot ass
My kingdom for a fly swatter
Rid me of these annoying pests
Where is the dove in this sky of vultures?
But how I dream at night
How I dream of anything
Sometimes, just to be left alone
To walk down a street
Without honks escaping from passing cars
To sit alone in public
Without being approached by
sex-crazed assholes
Sweet solitude
It’s a myth
haha great poem
Thank you! 🙂
Like it. You’re a great writer !
Wow, thank you! 🙂
Is this a review of “Birdemic”?
If only assholes were just CGI!
Please don’t wear a burqa; I’d like to believe that gentlemen *do* still exist. Although I often have the maturity or looniness of a 12 year old, that doesn’t extend to my treatment of women (way my dad brought me up, I guess – to appreciate/worship them!) – at least not until I get to know you 🙂
Oh yeah, also: very nice work again, Lisa ❤
Thank you, this poem is a personal favorite of mine. 🙂