"It's about words, and words are all I have…"

brown eyed crone

the thing about grey hair is  u join a club  instantly  and u are not

a joiner of clubs  while u might still be a brown eyed girl   no one

really cares  what colour your hair  when balling u behind a stadium

(silverlining of cronehood)


u are now someone who  isn’t just called m’am  but  goodlookin cougar      (ouchhhh)

by wayward men in alleyways   said men siddle up  +through toothless

smiles  ask if they might drool on your fadingstarlight    sure  why not?


this transformation also leads  to being slipped the answer  by

hungry sailors  +players  hopefully pre 65   but back when u were

25   there was a charlatan  with a chicken to pet  around every corner


good example: a biz acquaintance of a bro with 2 planes  hounded u

for a date  back in ’83   he was gnomish  with zillions  he said: a woman

like you  i’d take to the opera  in Prague!    (send a chopper  now)


i fled from the sad breakfast he’d prepared   +rheumy fingers

touching thighs    joe    joe      u still alive?







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