That’s my baby girl

pacing in front of the boutique,

impatient for old moneybags

to buy her a new pair of shoes


Of her, timid will never be told

By god, she’s got the mouth of a mariner,

the soul of a lioness, lips smeared blood red,

heart of hyena, megaphone voice,

more guts than Dick Tracey,

and treacherous as Dalilia


Watch out! She rams pokers off the road

but’ll buy you a burger if you’re broke,

gnaw your ass numb if you bullshit her,

do you real good, man, if you’re true,

bust your balls if you lie


A bit like me at twenty-two:

fighting what’s fake, against trash on the street,

against the brains of Brahmins, control freaks

and Daughters Of The Revolution


Fairer in the face than I, feet more streetwise,

lost eight lives before twenty,

sees deeper into the heart than a Hubble


Genes, no doubt, but then,

sometimes God gets it right