by Glen Martin Fitch

Whatever! Sure!
What's your bizarre request?
I've worn assorted panties,
briefs and thongs for others,
sitting still as they've obsessed
of life, of love,
and catalogue their wrongs.
Like there's the guy
who had me call him "dad."
I'm cool.
So what's your preference?
“Sir?" or "Son?"
Come on.
It's no time to feel tired or sad.
You paid for this.
The evening’s just begun.
We all pay.
God, by masters
I've been trained in guilt,
betrayal, denial, and jealousy.
Intimidate or plead.
Your choice.
Your feigned concern is nice.
Tonight's 'bout you not me.
No matter how mistreated,
tricked or scarred,
right now,
it's all 'bout you
and keeping hard.


Glen Martin Fitch's picture

Glen Fitch is a 16th Century poet lost in the 21st Century. Born near Niagara Falls, educated in the Catskills, thirty years on the Monterey Bay he now lives in Palm Springs. Retail not academics has paid the bills. Someday he will finish Spenser's "The Fairie Queene."

Last updated August 23, 2011