snake in de grass
Smooth with his talk
Slipped through the shadows,
a snake on the walk.
He called me an old fowl
laughed in my face
Wrote poems about me
then left not a trace
Said,I wanted wood
but let’s tell it right
He sparked that fire
then fled from the light
A man with a stroke in his head
His words like riddles
half-truths left unsaid.
An engineer, maybe—or maybe just lies,
A mask made of charm
but I see through his eyes.
“No beer,” he insists, but I know the game,
Slippery talker, no weight to his name.
I called him out, he slithered away,
Deleted his poems
but I know what they say.
A poet, a trickster, a mask he has worn—
But under the surface, the fangs are still sworn.
mj2025
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