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The Little Black Book

The Little Black Book

The untold story....

His little black book
A mystery to most
One could take a look
But never figure out the host

To understand his madness 
His scribblings and such
You had to explore the brightness
His mind often touched

The entries were enigmas
A code so well kept
Like entry number 420 said,
“@6pm Gibson Les Paul guitar”

To the naked eye
It didn’t mean much
He was clever but shy
Which was always my hunch

Always willing to give a lesson
But that was certainly not the case
He definitely did have a session
And it was more than playing the bass

A mystery to her name
A woman he liked to strum
It was a wicked little game
That always made him come

You may wonder how I broke his code
How I knew his tawdry tricks
See I was always in the shadows
His little sidekick, if you wish

I patiently waited
For his private sessions to end
Hovering like a little bee
So I knew when to begin

When he entered the room
And sat in his chair
A dirty martini 
I placed carefully in his hand



This story is protected by International Copyright Law, by the author, all rights reserved. If found posted anywhere other than with this note attached, it has been posted without my permission.

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