Meredith glibly penned a ditty
of dubious veracity,
& narcoleptic dramaturgy.
She's:
-a bitch (says she)
-a lover (to what other?)
-a child (no more)
-a mother (per her druthers)
-a sinner (aren't we all?)
-a saint (neither now nor ever)
singing- to the Programmer's delight- like a lark
on the stand
tales of Drunkenness &
Cruelty, all of which
took place
in the midst of a Blackout.
And tomorrow, it will mean
A Thing, &
the next day, too,
and long after the Programmer is done w/ you.
Cretan Maineiac
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/our-ms-brooks/
