’twas luck the bus was late
there was no better sight
the length of Hennepin.
A man, looked like a gigolo
now grabbed her arm,
and fragments of loud words
came flying over shrapnel-like,
when sudenly he slapped her face
I did what needed to be done.
His shirt was cheap it seemed
it ripped as I used martial arts
admired by a crowd and….her,
the nurse was very kind later that day,
she told me that the pimp had,
within seconds summoned friends,
and that there had been ten.
My wallet later became evidence
in State against Georgina,
callgirl with a lot of friends.
This poem was written by Stefan Reitz
of St. Paul Minnesota.
I posted it under my name
to encourage him to post it at all.
I think he may not become a member.