New Years’ Plea

Wannabe summers else
Fall into a new line
Get a rented house
That’s all mine
Leave this center
Of pompous lies
Creole up some love
Eat too many alligator pies
Win my own witchy woman
Neath a sly Cajun Moon
Get me outta here man
Before I do sumpthin stooped soon
Hours slow counting down
New Years is right oer there
Open the Mumm’s?
Not sure I very much really care
Just find get a new zip
Somewhere south of I-10
Come on man
Don’t make me beg again
Wanna be summers else
Listen to alligators stalking
Finally finish that cool book
By Mister S. Hawking
If you hear this plea
Text me soon—
Let’s all dance underneath
The next sly Cajun Moon

About Kitt

Sometimes a rhyme or couplet wanders across my consciousness. So, I share it. Other times I'm a hospice social worker; others, a Dad; others, southerner, New Orleanian, cajun enthusiast, voter, and on better days, a not-too-awful-poet/rhymster. Welcome to my page. Enjoy.

Posted on December 31, 2018, in Poem and tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink. Leave a comment.

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