Poem #15

she played with her new mug
saying he treats her right
saying she’ll probably get it
saying her pop wanted her home

she held her cell under her chin
saying fuck that bitch
saying it’s got to be a sign
saying sorry to be a buzzkill

I fiddled with my jacket button
saying it’s a means to an end
saying I don’t want to wait
saying I’ve got work tomorrow

and we’ll probably do it again next week.

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