Shack job

I met her in the street
& we found a dead space to do it
& I lost track of her after that
tho’ I remember well
her glue on my thigh.
Years later
we met in the street
& she wanted it again
& I remembered her glue
We went at it
it was kind of good
she got me to move in
what little I had to shift
some records, papers n books
& the days passed
& we laid in bed
listening to the rain
watching for the sun
we went at in the outdoors
any place we could
& head back to hers
& I’d watch her eat
my head was elsewhere
but that didn’t matter much
until the day she said:
this place don’t pay for itself
& I came to with a jolt
& what little I had to shift
went the other way
there would be another
who might glue me to her thigh

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