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Pier 7 slip 9 is where D discovered Greta.
Her loopy buzzed out flight patterns of speech,
and her habit of confronting the tops of the Ace pile,
as a mere fledgling,
earned her the reputation as an endearing harmless untouchable
fearless wacko.
D knocked on the cabin door,
after he had been listening for a few whiles.
Impatience kindled his legs and curiosity.
He opened the cabin door as a friend would.
"Hey G rat, watcha ya up to?"
Greta glanced toward the direction of D's voice.
A hissing gutteral growl preceded her announcement.
" The favorite pen, thee only pen, I must find find find find."
Before D sat down,
He knew exactly which pocket,
Greta's and his relief,
resided in.
He tossed the 'Earth to Greta', tablets, onto the orange formica table.
Three out of the ten, twelve or so, red tablets,
spun twirling
across the orange formica.
Greta decided those looked tastiest.
D waited.
Greta waited.
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