Ode to creepy man next door
A poem by Dana Gullard
Oh creepy man next door,
when I arrive home at a quarter to one
why you on your porch smokin’
looking at me with shame and shun
I’m not the one smoking
at age one hundred and two
I wish you wouldn’t stare at me
That’s the thing pedophiles do
So next time you see me
lurking out of your shadow
I’ll blow my rape whistle
And you won’t bother me no mo’
