I dated a girl named Joy, once.
It was a long time ago. I only
dated her once, and I’m sure
neither of us was looking for
anything more than a fling.
It was a bad time in my life.
I was in and out of the bars,
in and out of the blues and
she was in and out of beds.
When we met, she told me
she wasn’t sleeping around;
said she was just trying to
spread the Joy.
…………………………..But she didn’t
really seem joy-filled; she just
drank and drank, fucked, and
hit me up for cab fare home.
I knew she wouldn’t call a cab,
that she’d just find another bar.
I forked out enough cash for a
couple double-shots of Cuervo.
We only did it that one time.
I knew her name wasn’t Joy.
I was trying to be up-front.
I told her my name is Ron…
I guess she thought I was Rich.
—————[|||]—————
RDP Saturday ~ Joy
———[||]———
Scrambled, Not Fried 
That’s a funny fanciful tale. Seems the falsely named Joy needs to behave herself. Nice work!
This was a rich poem, a joy to read, Ron!
-David
Reminds me of the song: Lookin’ for Love in all the Wrong Places! When I first read through your poem, I thought it read, …and hit me up for crab fare home! You were lucky not to pick up any unwanted friends in that fling!