Treasure Island

Is It Poetry

(1958 - / Bus-Boys And Poets, Washington D.C.)

My Public Defender


Her eyes are the darkest
Smouldering, smokey dark brown eyes.
Taller than most she is wise.
To be in a hurry you must be.
I e-mail her a poem, when I do not to you,
to her I would do the same to you.
Here I lie, I'm precocious.
Nothing profound, verbs have that effect to descend.
On the state tell the truth or your done.
Bad company is that when it was,
bad to the bone someone else is he trustworthy?
She only likes me for my mind.
Been there done that a thousand times.
She is my hope and much more.
She siad that the law application concerning me
could have been written before somewhat better.
Did I say that she's hot, cause shes hot.
Most just pump,
pump, pumping, pump out the knowledge she has.
Her breasts are fair I assume, covered by her.
Professional is the look they must all wear.
Rapidly moving between all the floors
is the elevator stuck in between one going
one way another goes the other fat cat.
Her lips are to die for lips like Angelina Jolene Pitt.
Her fingers play musical instruments I am sure.
Before her again I will come, am I ready.

Submitted: Friday, July 12, 2013
Edited: Saturday, July 13, 2013

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