Paul E Sexton, Poetry

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P U N K G I R L

A Punk Rock girl
with terribly large breasts
spoke to me
by the parking meter.

She said;
"Hey dude, cool tattoo."
"Yea thanks" I replied.
And as she shook her head slightly
drawing upon her cigarette,
the smug young characters at her side
glared at me
as though I were the enemy.
Some lame old guy with a tattoo,
at a Deep Ellum parking meter.

They were right,
the cocky little punk assed bitches.
I am the enemy.
I am what cocky assed
punk rock goofballs
roaming the streets of Deep Ellum
become in time.
In their mid thirties
when they no longer believe
that they rule the world nor
command the forces of nature.

Some lame old guy
at a Deep Ellum parking meter
with only
A Punk Rock girl
with terribly large breasts
spoke to me
by the parking meter.

She said;
"Hey dude, cool tattoo."
"Yea thanks" I replied.
And as she shook her head slightly
drawing upon her cigarette,
the smug young characters at her side
glared at me
as though I were the enemy.
Some lame old guy with a tattoo,
at a Deep Ellum parking meter.

They were right,
the cocky little punk assed bitches.
I am the enemy.
I am what cocky assed
punk rock goofballs
roaming the streets of Deep Ellum
become in time.
In their mid thirties
when they no longer believe
that they rule the world nor
command the forces of nature.

Some lame old guy
at a Deep Ellum parking meter
with only
a cool tattoo.





2003