Of course I read your poems
Of course I read your poems. When I'm not reading a brief to create an advertising campaign that will cause a stampede outside the branches of a bank offering 6.75% interest on fixed deposits.
Of course I read your poems. When I'm not standing on one leg on the bus back home and peering over the shoulders of a guy watching Tom Cruise biff up the baddy on his iPhone and thinking that Rajnikanth would have done it better.
Of course I read your poems. When I am not with my monomaniacal boss seated on his hobby horse expounding his favourite theories on how the whole world but him is wrong and wondering whether to cut up his tie or strangulate him with it.
Of course I read your poems. When I'm in the mood to know how your umpteenth boyfriend exudes magic from his sebaceous glands (and not sweat like us mortals) and taught you the meaning of love in love-making; and how that same umpteenth now ex-boyfriend was only using your heart to mop the floor with just like all men did before.
Of course I read your poems.