I have been seeing Karen, a hairdresser,
for six long months now,
and I want her to leave me,
she is uncommonly dull,
there is an emptiness to her,
and you can see it in all her
selfies.
At night, in bed:
She drones on and on,
"do any of your friends even know about me?!"
"you never take a photo of me, even though I'm pretty,"
"and don't you know I could get another boyfriend
just like That!"
"you never write about me, in one of your poems"
She is relentless.
After galloping on her last night,
she began to chirp
straight into my ear,
and I lay there motionless,
trapped under the covers and staring at the
ceiling fan, eyes dulling and temples aching.
I began amusing myself by thinking up ways to
leave her, slow and easy (I'm a softie),
but then again,
maybe she is right,
and she is worthy of a poem.
Hey Karen, this one's for you.