poetry by j matthew waters

“and his hair was perfect”

there’s a werewolf
loose again in london
disguised as a dubliner
imbibing ales with
local ne’er-do-wells

strutting down abbey road
alongside chief inspector
chatting about the weather
and that bloody affair
going down last night

in big bold letters daily mail
warns of imposters
dressed quite smartly
wooing unsuspecting partners
who love to do the tango

december two thousand seventeen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

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4 thoughts on ““and his hair was perfect”

  1. Love that one, my friend! Reminds me of folks recounting ghost stories whilst huddled around a roaring fire.

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