I may smile
I might be nice
but my advice
doesn’t grow on trees
so don’t recite your monologue
thinking you’ve fooled me.
Dress it up or paint it gold
but there is no disguise
for the drama
you’ve skillfully woven
deep between the lines.
I won’t be in the middle
of two extremes,
the luggage you carry
is your cross to bear
Dear Abby isn’t painted
on my door
so don’t knock
expecting an answer.
I’m not
your one stop
fix it shop,
or the duct tape
holding the parts in place.
nor my words
like tarot cards
that drip
with some promise
of escape..
Just remember when
you come to me,
I am not
the patchwork queen…
Courting Disaster 
Aug 26, 2010 @ 22:17:09
I loved this Lisa because I saw myself in it. I’ve been that person too many for too many people. There is just the right amount of vitriol throughout to give this poem gumption and purpose. You know I always love it when you write poetry that directed and full of intent.
Aug 28, 2010 @ 12:29:50
Likewise, I always love your feedback, too! You know, Val, damn it if random people aren’t getting on my nerves this week and I needed to vent somehow! I guess it was pretty easy to pick one or two and point the bow and arrow at them, so to speak. 😉