Not Slumming

Don't sneer at Misty. She's okay.
Her piercings and her platinum
Hair may seem a little louche
To you, but, underneath the lurid
Husk, the raccoon eyes and naked
Midriff, glossy lips, from which
Emerge such oaths as drunken
Sailors utter, is a sweet and
Precious seed. She's let me come
Into this bar on mornings when
The sign said "closed" so I could
Warm my frozen fingers, fed me
When I had no food, and, now,
Though I am doing better, have
A job, a place to live, and snotty
Friends for company, I still come
Here to visit Misty. I may doubt
The worths of others. I know
She's okay.



Poetry by Lawrence Beck The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 22 times
Written on 2013-03-11 at 10:33

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