Corys

Who needs a shrink, when a lover somehow, always wants a drink, one day he might stroll, down this road like a clown, other times rotten lie low, I know what they think, he’ll always miss the furrow, his head down a sink, a display all his own, show them what he’s sown, outrage now he’s gone, I shudder at the stitch, a whole investment blown, work and strain and stink, who will want me now, face like an ice rink, heavy as jeans I’ve sewed, politics dull pink, sweat shines on my brow, ride away don’t blink, Chagall’s in the saddle.