Cleaving to your skinny feet,
I dig my nails into your ankles.
Dragging me down the sidewalk
Should be considered an Olympic sport.
“I just want to be with you!” I cry.
But your ears are closed to my
Desperate pleadings. You don’t care
To waste your time with a scuzz ball
Like me.
I’d like to be your friend, or maybe
An associate, but my efforts are
In vain, I fear. Nobody loves a loser.
Maybe later, I say to myself.
Perhaps when he is in a better mood.
Perhaps when he loses everything,
One day, he will come looking for me,
And when he finds me, he’ll thank The Lord that he has me.
Maybe.
Stumbling along the sidewalk 