Hooker Playing House
(Sonnet for Indian Lake)
I met a young girl on Saint Patrick’s Day.
She was looking for something important
To fill in the void she was dealing with.
She was pleased when I offered my content.
I rented a house on a scenic lake,
And worked very hard to give her a home.
It didn’t take long till the tide came in
And my credit cards drowned in the foam.
What I took as love was a two-faced con.
She had a road map to a better life.
But her route didn’t count on remaining
A loyal and strong, "We’ll deal with it," wife.
I took her on as my duly wedded spouse.
She turned out to be a hooker playing house.
THIS SPACE RESERVED FOR
GOLD DIGGERS WHO GIVE GOOD ILLUSIONS
[I was damaged property. That part’s on me.]
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