Ode to a Young Buck in a Liquor Store.

I couldn’t help but to smile under my Jackie O’s,

after being hit on by some 20-year-old,

who stared like I was a spread-eagle centerfold,

a boost to my battered and tattered ego,

 

I was dressed like a Female Assassin en Vogue,

a hoodie and shades, cause that’s just how I roll,

but the kid still told me that I was beautiful,

as he passed me by on his way out the door.

 

Strokes.

People really trip me out…
Sometimes they act in ways that are means of subconscious
desire to be stroked, we all know that.
It’s when the strokes don’t come, though, that we get to experience the rest of that noise.

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