ordinary man, #5

let me go, i've slain your dragons, little trollop, buried
them in old man smithy's fields, covered them with honey,
so the wilder dogs won't flair their scents, covered them

with shades of fabulation, for you've been running with those
fearsome troubles, chased by lads with money in their eyes,
and you've sworn me with some oaths that i'll no longer

bear; let me go, for you've long misunderstood my poor
intent, left me with your silly hunger for the night, whiskeyed
up and passioned for a sly and devious shadow, waiting

in the alleys, walking down these dangered streets, and
i can not buy you flowers, stroke your worried hair, or
take you to a supper, or a summer fair; so let me go, cause

i'm taken up with trembles, i have no secrets left to share

i'm just an ordinary man