DIVE RIGHT IN (from the mini-series, “Amy: The Lost Years”)

I know it’s a dive but
I dive right in anyway
Thigh-high boots first and
black silk bustiered boobs
not far behind

A drink; I start to shine; a
dim bulb sidles over, his
best pick-up line the
cobwebby question
of the truly unhip:

“What sign are you?”
After all these years,
you’d think it would
no longer be laughable
to answer, “Virgo”

But sorry-ass dudes
who think they can
get you with a ‘lude*
also seem to think it’s
hilarious to say “virgin”

Now he’s making fun
of my birth sign
“Hold on, Jack,” I snark,
“who’s the one with the
fake tan and a wink

that tells me you watch
WAY too much old
Magnum, PIs? Let me
illuminate you, buddy
I may have been born Virgo,

but I’ve a Gemini eye:
I can see Taurus rising
in your attitude, cuz
you’re way past horny
and full of B.S.”

© 2013 Amy Barlow Liberatore/Sharp Little Pencil

*Back in the day, a “lude” was a Quaalude. It not only put you into a dreamlike state, it also cured constipation and shyness.

For Poetic Bloomings, Marie Elena and Walt wanted poems about our astrological signs. Since a whole poem about the anal retentive, positively OCD nature (OK, some people call me “meticulous,” but that’s because they’re trying to avoid my hypercritical, snarky attitude) seemed like a bore, so I put it within a salacious story. I mean, how much can I say about arranging your bookshelves by age of the volumes, then rearranging by subject, then again by author…

Also, Sunday Scribblings wanted a poem using the word “illuminate,” and I dare say this guy may have achieved some enlightenment. Man, I was caustic back then! Peace, Amy


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