She calls herself "Cub," I don't.
The girl who took a beat
it took two languages to handle,
learning her craft
among the poets at Columbia
and doing a food beat for free
dragging behind her a string of music awards
she feels a little embarrassed
Once hoping to broker them into a real career
of her own,
a notorious flirt to whom men and women flock,
not all getting their chance to share her bed,
although we all wish we could,
a one-time coke-head,
she gave up (but not for lent)
claiming she's ignored at the office,
so she does whatever she pleased,
with me coming onto her radar,
my eye patch making me into a pirate
and because I lent her a book
on how to do what she was hired to do,
asking me to be her mentor,
when I don't know how
but I know whatever this is
it can't last
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