The Pick Up Artist

Well, I actually had time to write a new poem and thought I’d throw it out there for scrutiny.  I posted it on a poetry site as well♫♪

The Pick Up Artist

First and foremost, survey the room.
Strategize and memorize the participants, don’t assume
That Ken there, looking dapper
should be the first.
Instead presume
That the well known architects
will moan and begroan, feel attacked
when I ask that they scale back
their designs.  Restructure their hard work
while I lavish my admiration all the while.
And next is Barb, sporting her perfect smile.
Now I notice Annie, she looks ragged.
Her friend Samantha, off in a corner, sagged.
Her archaic clothes,
her arrogant pose
She just can’t fit in, share the game.
And Chubs! What a nickname
for such a beautiful creature,
slyly asleep, her most beguiling feature.
Will there be tears? Will an argument arise?
Or will my tact and aplomb overcome the cries?
I can no longer just ‘sweep the room with a glance’-
that old adage from Erma Bombeck, such nuance.
I must pick and choose,
legos, dolls, and shoes-
The bane of a mother of four, my existence.
 
 
FYI: Chubs is the nickname my kids call my cat Tess
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