Squatting happy- hour
on the granite steps
a four- plex victorian
Rodney got to spilling
a slurry confession
'bout thinking his ole' lady
been snaking behind his back 
with some older moreno.

Frost begin to gather
against the bare branches
& moss,  the hawks
northern howl sent an arctic
spasm of chills through my bones.

He asked my tipsy advice
of what he should do
upon learning she
been entertaining another man?

i clutch 
the forty ounce bottle
like a long lost bruddah,
after rinsing a swallow 
of warm
tart & tangy barley
tell him simply enough.

Make it official
like a referee with a whistle
& fire that stank wench,
you can't turn
no hoe into a house wife.

But Rodney was pussy- whipped,
one of those
ole' school romantics
who would fight blind
for a waning commitment.  
Begin to whine,  his
puckered- pouty lips 'bout 
the many seasons invested
in their courting,  that
luv shouldn't make his heart 
sporadically tremor & seizure.

i pass him a hard
reptilian glare
stern as scolding a stepchild
& tell 'em 
the best way
to get over an ole' woman,
is get underneath
another one.