The Fashion Spies Have An Interlude Poem by Scotty Dogg

you followed the yellow
sport
coat all over the airport
knowing he was a spy
until both of you had to
take a leak and
his cheesy was next to
your bland leather


each hiding something
sour he

had a bulge the size of a
44 and you gripped a 7 inch
stiletto
(rubbing it up against your
cheek with salty grin)

then you both strolled to
the granite and washed
each other's hands in the
opposite sink

he put a microchip in your
front pocket and you put
a bitter smile in his ear

he walked out with his
head screwed on straight
and you looked in the mirror
with your fists clenched
and raged