Bad Poetry Friday

Me c. June 1999

You cannot mold my body

I am the shape of my ansectors

I can bring any man to his knees

I am still a child

I wear my hair in a palm tree

I still take naps

I love adventures

I am a woman

I can dance until dawn

drive fast in expensive cars

and sleep with the enemy

I still have room to groq

don’t duge me in a glance

I change in a blink of an eye