The Hot Girl At The Casino

There’s a hot girl at the casino

She works security 

And she’s so purtty 

Her pants ain’t tight yet that ass looks great

I think she likes me, she looks my way

Is that a sign? It has to be

We want to talk to each other

But naturally 

She tries to get close 

But never close enough

Fuck it! I’m gonna approach tonight 

If I see her! Maybe she’s not working

I hope every day I’m working, she’s working

I think the only reason I’m still working there is to see her – she makes it worth it 

Maybe one day

When we’re 

Happily (?)

Married with children, vacationing in Reno

We’ll come back and read the poem titled: The Hot Girl At The Casino 

Sonnet #4

Hell is my habitat, it hurts to have to fathom that, yes

Drugs, stress, dread, unwanted thoughts of other people having sex

I think I’m depleted, I think I’m defeatist, I lost it

I think I’m heroic, professional poet, I got this

Alternating between dreams and metaphysical nightmares

If you’re still there – I’m here, spaced-out and aware, single but paired

I am Air McNair in this shadow game – the final pass thrown

I could have stayed in class but dropped out as an iconoclast

How’s that working out for you? The question’s posed rhetorically

You saw me suffer stoically, study here the sordid me

I’m addicted to a risk, the supply seems unlimited

Decorum’s an illusion that dresses up the primitive

Is it cynical to notice, have I made you cynical

You used to wonder what I thought – now you think identical










Fight, Fight, Fight

Yes, I will kick the ass of…

Landin’ punches at a rate

He cannot fathom

I’m more vicious

I’m more aggressive

Of his physical strength

I’ll make you think less of

Try me, he’ll lie at my feet

I see his pics and think…

No way can I see myself losing

Taking a ride to my house

Would be like cruising for a bruising

But you don’t want to see that occur

You are scurred for him

When he realizes the grand surprise

And thinks damn…

All that pussy shit he wrote

Was just a bunch of lies