for a lousy tomcat club.
“You don’t love me”
How is it even an option, poor girl.
With her spoiled frock all frayed
about the edges.
“I really care about you, honest”
Muddy waders left at the front door.
Showing the miles he had trekked,
unrelentingly passing his scent from
one to another – pussy willow.
Pitiable girl, her once raven black locks now
streaked with grey.
A beauty in her day, but now a sad shell.
Her britches splitting at the seams,
instead of sewing up the sides.
She is still looking for love
in the most unlikely places.