Dirty Poems are a delicious dish

at high noon
at a small cafe near the
local library
during its great grand opening
I sit across from a college girl
young, beautiful; ripe and opinionated
as she read one of my newest poems
I'm wondering what she thinks
not really, just acquiring some
honest feedback
from the more plentiful sex
she stops reading
slams the sheet down
on the glass table
with a look of utter
disgust
a dirty poem
she did tell me that she didn't like dirty poems
oh well
it's too late
my eyes are surveying
her griping tone
her sharp verbs
and angry pronouns
my eyes are watching
her breasts jiggle slightly
as she snarls out of disgust
she says she's offended
she says my poem is smut
my poem is not poetry at all
she grabs her purse
and she gets up and leaves
and later on, I get to my room
light a cigarette and start
writing another 'dirty' poem
then, there's a knock at my door
it's the offended college girl
with a mini-skirt on
and a bottle of grey goose;
her favorite, mine on occasion
she said she was so disgusted
by my poem
it made her feel 'dirty'
she spent the rest of the night
helping me write
an even dirtier one

by Marty Matthews