Privy Divvy

If you pull on her leg slightly lifting her skirt; She’ll consistently remind you that you could get hurt. She claims she’s short on attention just like a cat; So best throw out some tricks from under your hat. She’s an angel of mercy familiar with pain; With the skill of a mystic that dismantles your game. To performers as victim broken of heart; She’s the carver of excess that could cut you apart. She’s good and she’s bad and stays to herself; But she keeps her binoculars there on the shelf. He’s layered and sweetened salted with nuts; With a curse that’s forever much like king tut. A piece of him cares most of him don’t; And it looks like she might but he knows that she won’t. It’s all just diversion a genderless klatch; Perhaps but a race that the Talley man scratched