The only thing worth talking about is how nothing is worth talking about.

I remember you sitting in a chair
just inside the hallway,
which in itself was not very significant,
save for the fact that it happened to be
the same place I had just run my tongue
along the length of your young, yawning ass
about an hour or two earlier when
we had sex in the dark
as the sirens rang
on Glenwood.

You sat there
more girl than woman
dreaming of unknown lovers
much younger than I
who burned for adventure,
and starlight over
the crowded streets of
Prague and
Paris.

But you were still cunning enough
to trade warm pussy for a hot meal
and I say that without malice
or
disdain.

A young girl gets it where she can
by shaking what she will
with all the power that young girls are
rightfully
given.

As you let me down gently
I lovingly said,

"As you go through life
you'll find,
sadly,
the good ones are few
and far
between."

Wherever you are tonight
I genuinely hope

that you're off somewhere with
one or two of the good
ones.