My friend Leslie used to have stilettos she called her “rat-stabbin’ heels.”  The phrase stuck with me after 30 years!  This is fiction about some very good times in some very bad places, making terrible choices, and Riley if you are reading this, don’t listen to a word of it, because NONE of it is true.  But just in case it’s true and I don’t remember, I’m tagging under “Amy: The Lost Years”! For the new blog, dverse, as well as Poets United, both of which you MUST check out.   Amy

Rat-Stabbin’ Heels

Slip, trip, get a grip
Wait – fate, caught on the grate
in my rat-stabbing heels

Pub, club, feel the rub
Dance, prance, get some romance
in my rat-stabbin’ heels

Girls, pearls, out for whirls
Grind, blind, unrefined
in my rat-stabbin’ heels

Stairs, chairs, got no cares
Blues, booze, I’m the news
in my rat-stabbin’ heels

My fly: Martini, dry
Noise, boys, they’re my toys
in my rat-stabbin’ heels

(Next day, hell to pay
‘Scara ruined, all raccooned
Wha’happened to my heels?)

© 2011 Amy Barlow Liberatore/Sharp Little Pencil