“I’m not crazy! I’m not going there,”
said the fly to the spider,
voices of warning in my head,
not yet so stupid as to walk
wide awake into her web,
a party for a magazine
paid for by an owner
too cheap to give anyone a raise.
Whose idea was this anyway?
Did this brainstorm come
out of his own pointed little head?
I may be stupid,
just not stupid enough
to fly into the web
of a world she knows too well,
I know how good she will look,
maybe even wearing
that tight black dress
she did on stage
and I know how much
it will hurt,
knowing I can’t possibly
appreciate it for the glares
she will give,
perhaps hooked on the arm
of someone else,
with a “see what you could have had,”
look.
“I’m not crazy.
I’m not going to give her the chance.”
No comments:
Post a Comment