Petty Pick Ups At Purgatory Pub Poem by Belle Violet

He said,
'Can I buy ya a shot, babe? '


I'm flattered, Handsome;
You know my name. But
I don't shoot shots,
I sip scotch over rocks, Buck.
I drink slow,
Honey, this life,
it ain't my
first rodeo.
You're young,
I can tell,
Handsome, you
haven't lived
many lives.

It's no wonder
you find me
so hard to deny.
You can't see, mine are
old eyes.
You just think
they're pretty,
Hunk,
but,
they've seen years
before.

These eyes,
they lived lifetimes,
before I was born.
And my soul knows
their journey,
but my soul
is the only.

Dont expect I'll say, Darlin',
what kinda spirit
fills these
young bones.
What you need to know
is I've loved,
and I've died,
I've wrung myself dry.
I've known husbands
and babies,
you may think
it's crazy,
but your young soul
couldn't possibly know.

Baby
see a few lives out -
we'll drink scotch
when you're old.
You'll be easy to find;
I'll look for
these eyes.

Such a faux pas
if you ask if
you can buy me a shot.
Always know, you'll be met,
with a disabling response.