My Pretty Little Head
just rattlin’ ‘round these days . . .

Don’t have a thought in my pretty little head.
Oh! How that comment would frost my ovaries!
(Back when I had a couple).
After overdosing on a lengthy reading sesh of probing poets and elegant essayists on a Medium Christmas pen-Eve . . .
sitting here, plunger to the brain try as I might, I can’t squeeze anything cerebral from this pretty little head.
All those decades trying to act smart the only girl in engineering back when THAT was even a thing.
Getting eyeglasses when I barely needed any to paint my pretty little head as intellectual.
Prolly didn’t fool anyone.
Some poets just wanna have fun.
Words to escape the drudgery of life not peddling this ass-kicking as art.
Slogging the winter of my life being an airhead no worries it’s expected now: old timers with Alzheimer’s.
Well, we’re approaching Year of the Dragon . . .
I shall be sitting pretty in my gauzy cocoon of farfetched manifestations.
Leave all that potent poetry to the highbrows to pen.
