My friend works as a barmaid and is studying to be a teacher and drives a valiant and rides a motorbike. She knows all about women in rock, my bandbuddy. She suffered sexual abuse and still gets sexual harassment. In late seventies England as a child they dressed me as a punk, that was before I ever heard the Eurythmics Sweet dreams. Now Lady Gaga is no golden goose that lay the egg, but big hearts like mine are beating as I’m hearing ger song.It ends and the rain rings out on a tin roof. A songwriter in the wilderness, a deer in the headlights. A thousand weirdos come out of their closets with moth eaten libidos.
Peter Yowie Poetry