A Special Lady (San Pedro)
with her ripped black stockings,
she had the stance
of a distressed maiden
whom all the men salivated over with the presumption
she needed rescuing.
She loved punk for as long as she could
remember, but all it could give her in return was adultery.
After all, it began as a one night stand,
then, just like that,
Not a word.
Not a note.
Until years later, when it came crawling back,
a residue of its original
She thought, why should I deal any longer
with its laziness,
How can I trust an ethos that has gone
against it's own commitment to itself!
It's own principles.
which has now become nothing but a fashion garment
suffocated by it own treachery.
Even my friends warned me about it,
said from the beginning it would only drag
but I always rebelled against
middle of the road advice...
because I could never resist
the gravity of punks hook...
and now I am left with a lingering question
did I ever really want to be
in the first place?