I was standing on a street corner
trying to pick up Emily Bronte
(I'm a sucker for those ball-busting shy types ya know)
in this iteration she had jet black hair
cut in bangs and a sleeveless T with skin pure white around
tats so garish I was invited to think of perversion
on top of happy hot perversion...old sad old male
I am after all...all she did was smile as I excused myself
and moved out of her way...(even the smiling glance back
did nothing but provoke the 17-year-old locked
in this 62-year-old body to wonder 'what the fuck happened?')
oh I was standing on a street corner
trying to pick up Emily Bronte but I was outmanned
by the remorse of age remembering the charge of youth....
Content (c) 2008-2015 Philip Milito.
Content (c) 2008-2015 Philip Milito.
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