Princess (purple sweater)


Her name was Metta

A real Thai princess

Who got work

As a hair model

She used to wear a purple sweater

That showed off her figure

And I knew she liked me

Because she would punch me hard

And her friend call me their pimp

He father had some sort of cancer

And she started skipping school

To spend time with him

Eventually she just stopped coming

And I never saw her again

I didn’t think much of it

There were other girls around

But few as beautiful as her

Late one night

Several years later

We were both online

We got to talking

And she said

That back then she was in love with me

I said I had loved her too

We didn’t know what to say next

I haven’t seen or heard from her since

But I keep a pair

Of ornate chopsticks

She brought me back from Thailand

I still remember Metta

There were so many beautiful women in my life during my youth. I was spoiled really. It’s all dried up now that I’m hitting mid-thirties and with the hard road things have been for so long I regret not holding on to any of my great loves of my life. The experiences we would have had would have been a thousand times better than the wild ride of the last ten years.

Being a small town, when I was in prison there was a handful of inmates and a hand full of screws that went to my high school. One of them said I had the best looking girl in the school and it was true.

The end of this poem is a Kerouac reference.

I still remember Metta.

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