Girlfriend’s a pistol,
way too hot to handle.
A pistol-packing mama —
charming, alarming, disarming.
Always fighting fire with firepower,
illuminating life with her fireworks.
This poem is an etheree, written in response to Margo Roby’s 8/4/15 prompt asking us to write a poem about packing or unpacking. It probably goes without saying, but I had fun with this one.