Unsure of herself,
She sits quietly,
Waiting for some
Large Intellect to
Swagger in,
Sit near her,
So she can
Pick a fight,
Prove that
She can hold her own,
Prove that she can
Beat something, beat
Someone…

In battle, she sees no losses,
Accepting no referee to judge,
She scores to win,
Wins to score,
She chalks it down
On that board in her head,
Moves on,
Loosing the war of peace,
In turmoil,
She promotes strife,
Strife for herself.

Fighting done, she
Feels victorious,
Sits, enjoys her
Pseudo-spoils,
Counting that which
She took from herself.
She smiles,
Has another breve,
Lights her own cigarette.
She sits alone.

Written in the 1990s… I wonder whatever happened to her.