Mixed emotions swirl
Then fall down
Another merlot-fueled atrocity
Masquerading as inspired verse
But it’s far from free random
Something much much worse
Second glass empties
Begs a refill—
A young Friday evening
Perseverating in isolation
I’d love to have a date
But that requires some ambulation
The ringer on mute
A cell insolent,
A Facebook lovely in Killeen
How to make a connection?
So many never-never starts,
Dust-in-sprinkles wet the imagination
Mixed emotions weigh
Then slip off
long, long ago the warmth of your touch faded away
and all other memories all scramble the same,
your’s has drifted into a far pale grayscale
and now I cannot remember your name.
there was something about a Tuesday parade,
beads filled the crisping Southern air,
babies snored atop their ladders
and everyone had properly ceased to care;
but I remember you, behind that mask,
my forever lover who’d never flash your chest
just to woo Mardi Gras beads and doubloons:
o, my love burned hot for you in my breast.
then, your crowd moved off to the Quarter;
and I, left there without a dime to my name,
dragged it on across the Avenue to go on home
and things returned to a faded everday same.
as scripted, we agreed that it was for the best,
but today, I facebooked and googled so very hard
trying to re-refind what was long totally so lost;
tomorrow, turning sixty: what, a birthday card?
“age is just a number:” that’s what they say;
o, the hell with it: Laissez le bon temps roulez!