slay the debutanteA Poem by m.s.earlybehind the punch bowls and refreshments we throw our own party to entertain ourselves; people like us, street farmers, dirty hands, dirty minds, dress pretty but even-so awkward as hell.
'til some over-friendly debutante with words so sticky sickly sweet, comes a'traipsing across the carpet because we're two she'd like to meet,
but my girl ain't up for puffed up fluff she cups her glass and eyes at me i was raised well enough, she smiles, she trusts, and i politely stand to greet.
her wit always trumps their social interludes when they try to condescend making little of their poignant attitudes so clever i can't hide a grin.
our host, her mouth is stuck wide open in shock by what my love has said "it was a pleasure for us to meet ", i smiling, "but i feel the need to dance."
her satin gloves take their appointed stance as our shoes click towards the floor "thank you for rescuing me", she concedes, "i don't think i'd take much more."
"oh my love, your graces never cease to amaze me, how a mouth so foul can kiss so sweetly." © 2014 m.s.earlyReviews
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11 Reviews Added on January 9, 2014 Last Updated on January 11, 2014 Authorm.s.earlyVAAbout"A poet's work is to name the unnameable, to point at frauds, to take sides, start arguments, shape the world, and stop it going to sleep." -Salman Rushdie more..Writing
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