She Always Wanted a Poet


Her note was left for me in book by Bukowski
She always wanted a poet was what she said to me
As if her collection was driven by their occupation.
A bassist, an addict, her supervisor,
An atheist, a student, a coworker, another supervisor,
Another bassist and a nameless venture,
A lover for a snow day and some other adventure,
Were lovers she already acquired.
A butcher, a baker, a candlestick maker,
A communist, a feminist, a dentist, a chemist,
A statistician, a technician, a politician,
A porker, a stalker, a broker, a corker,
A delivery man, a policeman, a fireman, a mailman,
A gynecologist, a geologist, a physicist, a botanist,
And occupations yet to be invented
Were lovers that she desired.
But what she really required
To complete her menagerie
Was a poet of a certain pedigree.
And though I tried to fill her void
Believe me, I really tried to fill her void
And spent my time making merry rhyme
Alas in the end she became annoyed:

I could not think of anything that rhymed with Nantucket.

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