Jack

She spent her evening with a friend named Jack. Jack stood out like a volunteer, making no apology for himself (though he forward marched through her life like a soldier's foot-stomp parade, minus pomp minus circumstance). Jack always took his possessions at first ever impulse, that is to say he was the type of man who could "carpe diem" with the best of them. She agreed. "Play the horn play the drum", she thought, while given to him. Jack always left his possessions at second glance. He was the nothing-to-show-for-it type of man. She did not want him to return. She did want him to return. He did not want to come home. He did want to come home. She spent her evening without a friend named Jack, who steals the thunder. Jack sat on the shelf like streamlined vodka. Apologetically, he backward marched a Saint Louis funeral-in-reverse. She then nursed a wound to remember him by. (Author: Chad Wood - This poem was entered in the contest "Create Your Own Form, Maybe ?" sponsored by Constance ~ A Rambling Poet! ~ Form: Call this the "In and Out" form. The stanzas have ten lines each, which expand and retract, with subject matter about 'something in life that comes and goes', can be as many or as few stanzas long as wished)