In my profile I have who I am,
I don’t think people read anything,
Says soft Butch lesbian,
And no word does it say girl looking for date,
It some dude named Tom Jones we’re trying to pass himself off as the Tom Jones has been irksome and indignant demanding that I chat with him,
Wanting me to download other apps for that purpose,
A young woman who claims to his surgeon seems to think that kind of bee’s knees,
I tell them I’m a writer who wants to get ahead who hates poverty,
Surely that’s not these for honey!
I spent 58 years trying to live my life for others,
I came out in that time at forty for me,
Other than that I didn’t very little for me,
My course is set,
Leave poverty,
Buy a piece of land in North Wisconsin,
Have a physical bookstore huge garden raise Sockeye walleye,
Have something to offer a girl and not poverty,
Have my kitties and my dogs,
Sit on the dock and watch the lake,
Have a cooked stove and a wood furnace and a basement,
Go to pow wows,
Fireworks at Winter Wisconsin,
Eat once a week at the wolf’s cove,
Read Cell right and be,
And leave Mother Earth in my own bed,
Val Whitewolf 