She walked the streets of New York.
From square to square of concrete, her mind
Wanders with her. My mother wasn't
Expecting, for the first time
To look up and see
The man himself.
She said, "Excuse me, Mr. Trump,
I thought you should know
You are the reason I am alive. You open my
Eyes to reality and my
Heart to love. I survive
On a diet of gossip
With a strange look, he turned away, but she
Continued. "Well, my heart consumes
And my eyes only see
What they want to.
Except, when you're around,
I see 3 dimensions
Instead of my usual 1.
I may not be your cup of tea and
You may not be listening to me
But how do you know you've lost if
You claimed defeat
From the minute you began?"
Of course, she was being blunt.
Her cheeks were flushed and her eyes gleaming
With the hope of a child
On the night before Christmas. You see,
She is married but
My father bowls on Fridays.
So this is accepted
As a compromise.
She never claims defeat.
Even as he was nearly a block away,
She followed in her bootleg jeans,
Her purse flailed about her as she ran
And onlookers gawked
At her shamelessness.
"I will give you a keychain
As a token of my love
For the hair that allows me
To enter a world
With fullfillment and lust.
You have the pout of a model and
The modesty of a millionaire and
I think I fell