a poem

I had a coffee break with the devil.
A plan to meet his four girls.
I walked up to his apartment,
Sixth street, third floor.
I knocked twice, a mawkish grin on my face
He opened the door modestly,
Was it difficult finding my place?
He asked.
And before I forget,
My daughters, Cruelty, Jealousy, and Secrecy
They each nodded with recognition.
Oh yes, and Terror. She’s in the kitchen making coffee.