Max Is Fixed.

I don’t know what that son
of a bitch said but it’s all lies

said Max I never touched his
lady I wouldn’t have touched

her with a proverbial barge pole
but he’s always had it in for me

that schmuck he thinks just because
he’s got himself a good job and

lives in a big house and drives a
posh car that I’m just slum waste

but I showed him when I knocked
on his door when he was at work

and his lady let me in to fix the
waste pipe and once I got it fixed

she put her arms about my waist
and pulled me onto the sofa and

began kissing me like some cat on
heat and I remembered seeing the

Degas painting on the wall one of
those ballet paintings and as she

unzipped my pants and entered in
I could hear Ella Fitzgerald singing

on the hifi her voice reaching inside
of me and up to the big blue sky.

poem by Terry Collett
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!