Tarts And Warts Poem by RIC BASTASA

on a sweet conversation like this
when you open
and i ask some more of this openness
in you,
you become my tart
i like the taste
of fruits and milk and some cheese
to last finger licking
goodness

then you take your turn
trying to open me like a canned
fruit juice
i stick to my lock and key
and you find it hard to
open
you like to drink the four seasons
in me
i refuse
i shifted your questions to something else
like the full moon last night
and you do not like
this one way traffic
between us
my road is closed
i only have
mysterious ends
your thirst shall not be quenched
you should know by now
i am not a tart
i am your wart

and so the saying goes like a road
diverging
i'll take the other one
you take that one
i know
the one less travelled by

you are the poet
i am less