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Abstract wet pavement Photograph by Garry Gay

cold rain to slow-streak the glass I watch you through - you and your christ ... the ginger bread man, sugar daddy savior, all that I was not, (and less) ... choices of compromise, to provide the lifeblood of your "needs" ... you, admiring your bullion reflection in a shimmering bottle of Armand de Brignac, smiling for your 'badder' half - a manufactured laugh for the fools about who find your pout a bit too pretentious, conscientious that the pear-shaped D/flawless Winston that tickles thy freckled cleavage, speaks as loud as the painted bows above, my dear love, (once) ... now I'm just a jester, the crowning kid of skid row, and you'll never know I eyed your trim - spied you with him, picking a bone in the bistro I used to own, with Sir Steadfast, but alone - so aptly and achingly alone ... extrovert of extroverts, yet you're EVER unattended ... even 'friended' to the max, 'midst stacks of your fairest fans, (and man), your loneliness strangles - dangled on a fraying rope of hope ... a wish that life holds more than your this ... my station now mended, I've ended my peerless peering, time for steering my Wal-Mart cart to that toxic box under the bridge, the fridge that I call home ... I turn and push, warmed by the squeak-squeak music of the wheels, makes me feel all warm inside ... I chuckle out loud when I think of you and your scarecrow-on- a-cross, all warm ... inside ... I spin my buggy 'round, just digging the sound, and the thought now searing my marrow - oh, such delight, the slings and arrows! now I'm back outside your restaurant, you and "he" are on task - Baked Alaska flaming sweetly, so I neatly ball my fist and ... SLAM! BAM! CRASH!! with a flash, (and the wryest smile - not used in a while), the glass is shattered, as I'm Mad Hattered in my lovely Goodwill coat and weeping wrists - stormy mists and sad patter of the reddened rain ... now, just a bloody stain upon your pretty pair, (a bonus - my onus) I don't look up to meet your startled stares ... but stoop to pick a shard, and pocket it with utmost care ... at least my chest thrums, I muse - you ... have not heart enough to share this broken window's pain. Entered on August 26, 2021 To the "August 2021 N/A's" Poetry Contest Constance LaFrance, Judge & Sponsor N/A'd in the "A - - Your Pick" Contest Finalized August 8, 2021

Copyright © | Year Posted 2021

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Date: 9/2/2021 2:00:00 PM
Greg, wonderfully, and congratulations on your win in my contest ~peace and tranquility ~Constance
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Date: 8/30/2021 9:09:00 AM
A beuatiful work. Congratulations!
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Date: 8/1/2021 7:52:00 PM
Such tis heavenly dessert to any reader that understands, appreciates and can truly cipher poetry through heart, soul and mind. Whilst truly appreciating the depths, emotions, reality in this wonder piece. Ahhhh... but how many can see, and how many dare speak? A fav- because this is true and great poetry my friend. I that dare..
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