Bete Noir
I knew
she was poison,
but
as a young man
with jug ears
and pimples
I gladly held out my glass
for more
deadly nightshade.
She said
she liked poetry
but
it was obvious
she had no taste
for mine,
nevertheless
I give it a shot
and when
I had done
I sensed a door
in her
mind
slamming shut
She was a
beauty
and far too
lovely
to be seen
with me
so
we ended up
at her place
a small
apartment
saturated
with the funk
of joss sticks.
She read me
some poetry
of her
own
occasionally
glowering my way
to see if I were
paying attention,
it seemed obvious
that I had failed her test.
No
- no sex
we had
a 1 on 1
counseling session,
I was the hapless client,
and
quickly judged
unfit
to imbibe
her special
shade of
toxin.
Copyright © Eric Ashford | Year Posted 2020
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