Bent Bars

I filled out a yellow questionnaire Sent it off to who knows where (well, to the Bent Bars PO Box) Sent it off, and near forgot I’d asked (as several months had passed) To swap letters with a so-called sinner. ​ It ended after Christmas dinner. ​ It started August Oh-Nineteen, Our friendship is a two-year dream. It was my pleasure to be matched With he who spewed graffiti-facts With a man who knew his rap, And opened up to outside pacts, Admitted all, moved by the past, Would rectify in ways that last. ​ He sent clippings, tv listings, Blue paper by the ream. He sent me every letter, No friend better under Lizzie’s pleasure, yet it ​ Ended suddenly.