Little Stanzas with a side of Heavy Metaphors

We never got to meet on planet earth 

But I would like to think we will get along if we ever do cross paths 

I wish I had been able to watch you spit, swallow, and host from the balcony of our holy sanctuary prior to our new normal

Hopeful you would have called upon this deadpan, swift glasses, double-bagging beanie wearing soul sister to come down to spit and swallow under the bright lights in my favorite spot on the Lower East Side

I hope you would enjoy this thesis poetess and her sassy realism 

Until we meet up above, Miguel 

I will be standing by spitting and swallowing life

That’s just me

A deadpan thesis poetess 

As I cook beyond burgers and my garlic spinach listening to other poets spit and swallow their words 

As I flash my pretty whites at the right poetesses from afar 

They say in-person I am not deadpan at all

I did not even realize over Zoom that I come off rather monotone

But it seems I have caught your hearts and souls week in and week out 

Especially when I spit and swallow erotica 

Jewesses of Boston: are you listening?

A deadpan, double-beanie bagging, thesis poetess soul sister 

Another God on Mount Olympus 

Who has a lot to say 

In little stanzas

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