He who dies with most the toys is, nonetheless, still dead.

POETRY

You may find my poems

Call Girl




I could just call a call girl

Call her Juliet or Mary

I could sit and do the crossword

She could cook a Coq au vin



She could drive me to the airport

Wave her hanky on some jetty

A white flicker on the shoreline

Seagulls tangled in her hair

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

you need a phone to make a call....