I Write Bad Poetry

We got along like seal milk on a dumpster fire,
t'was all the more so impressive that yon maiden was stacked -
like a tattoo of Betty Boop on the elbow of a white power felon stirring the gruel kettle,
Her memory burnt like unfine wine into my retinals,
leaving but a whisp of foggy paddleboat rides around the midfield to recall the mindfeels
she alone managed to short circuit all my poetics,forever,in all guises,
for all the saggy dates to follow,lingering in aroma and what might have seemed clever