(February/'47 / Connecticut, USA)

'Would You Like The Dirt From The Gutter First? '

I want to know your name.
And sometimes I am ashamed...
To come across like a manic,
Caught to catch in a panic zone.

I want to be with you,
But my tongue gets tied too.
And I'll say stupid things,
That are erractic.
Embarrassed and frantic.

Actions I choose not to own.
But in your presence,
That's what is shown.

Why is it hard for people,
Just to sit down and meet?

Why does this have to have,
Confirmation of a history?
With approval from researchers.
Who feel a need to dig up dirt!

'Would you like the dirt from the gutter first?
Or should I just sit with you and flirt? '

Are you about to 'flip' out?
Or are you just plain crazy?
Or both? '

~What would you prefer? ~

'Dis with a 'tance' connected! '


'Would you leave me alone...
Please? '

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