Stick-up

Thanks for the novel on Catherine the Great.
I was greatly relieved to discover there are fates
far worse than blackness, the clap. Though
nobody knows what they are...
& so come to shepherd me across a stretch of wicked terrain
more limp-wristed wives blackballed from the Bath & Tennis Club.
"O the girls used to dot their i's with hearts" & their hearts just
break like chocolate, sharp & warm
& exclusive like after-swim bowel movements.
White Castle burgers. High-class poo-poo.
I am assaulted by a cohesive mass
of confidence & steal lines, long & thin
like stringy hemorrhoids or cowboy ties.
I choose not to think of it as plagiarism but as "synchronicity" as in:
Christ was born on a bank
holiday & died on a bank
holiday & I'm worrying about my hedge fund
when a voice blurts out, You could have got salvation,
tri-color pasta if you had waited but since you acted
the way you did you get nothing!