Totting up the years you cunning fox
Hi to a cool cat with a heart of an ox
Dreaming puppy dog and pussy cat
Lordy smiles like a naff rat
Toasting your birthday we come en bloc
Some in a suit and some in a frock
Vee shaped cake to point the way
As simple as pi and music to sway
Poets mingle in the juice bar writing on the vine
Teas from around the world squeezed next to the wine
Miss Spellers crop tapping away on her leather boot
Ladyhawk has thoughts on her next exciting shoot
Lisa your skills I admire as a enigmatic fan
May your cheeks glow as I open another can
Just the one valt to go
A word it shall not show thee
Happy birthday from me
Thanks Mitch, there are no words…I’m speechless!
XOXO – LK 😛 😛
“We drank, drugged, stayed in the center of the rug, through sunset,
sunrise, played Scrabble for 8 or ten hours each time I went in to piss
she stole the letters she needed she was a survivor, the bitch.”
– from his poem “The Great Lover”
I thought of you this moment…
I rarely do, I have better things to
tend to now.
We were notorious young ingenue
outlaws, we played a mean game of
Scrabble remember? Inviting boys over
for some wordplay.
Shooting pool at The Corner Pocket on
Sunset Blvd. Carousing with the best
and the worst of them. The riff- raff
misfits and renegades.
I found a way to misfit in.
I liked when you played your piano and sang
“Desperado” it was sad and lovely
We had buckets of fun before you would
turn into ‘Ms. Hyde’ about twice a week, it
got to be, before your hateful
hissing venom spitting fork tongue
bit me through the slow gin fizzes.
We laughed and gorged and purged
up a thunderstorm. Flailing across country
in a black-out, landing in a jail cell in Banning.
You drove. You were always in the driver seat.
I rode shotgun and handed you my I.D.
I hated loving you, my wildebeest
bad girl, partner in ‘drama queen’ crime.
Try saying that 3 times sober…
Our tiaras tilted, our crowns cut like
thorns on roses.
We bled together as girlfriends do.
L. K. Thayer
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