Cointreau broke Gluino
Thanatos shall be reconciled
White wine jumped Saxion
Hymenaios was cold
Campari hunted Higgs
Thetis shall be cut down
Anisette haunted Neutrino
Pan was enjoyed
Amaretto hated Boson
Astraea shall be calm
Cinnamon Schnapps camped Plekton
Apollo was seduced
Port peeled Proton
Uranus is comfortable
Brandy learned Plasmons
Oceanids shall be impetuous
It all started with a bet
Inside a launderette
Over a cigarette
With a brunette
I hadn’t yet met
Her name was Marie-Antoinette
As she said it she did a pirouette
And wow what a silhouette
Coquette she wore an amulet
Feared nothing short of a bayonet
Forgot the laundry it was still wet
I got hungry and craved an omelet
Asked M-A to join me in my Corvette
Drove to the closest luncheonette
Ordered baguette and anisette
We talked right until the sun set
She showed me a statuette
She dreamt of a trip to Tibet
So we jumped on a jumbo jet
Me her and the rest of the jetset
Across the aisle was the oddest duet
He played the clarinet she the castanet
While Marie-Antoinette rhymed the alphabet
Dancing and waving with a serviette
Try and imagine this strange vignette
Marie-Antoinette Marie-Antoinette
Forever in her debt
Not so easy to forget
I only have one regret
I left Marie-Antoinette back in Tibet
Submitted on November 14, 2022 for contest 2022 POETRY MARATHON MILE 20 sponsored by MARK TONEY
AP: Honorable Mention 2020
Originally posted on February 17, 2018
Religion smoked a cigarette,
while sugar did some drugs,
I drank gin and anisette,
Heroin gave you hugs.
Was it my kleptomania
that seemed like such a threat?
You'd turn your back for hours,
hoarding the internet.
Drama was your primal right,
vandalism your apogee,
you had to have the spotlight,
spread your fame for all to see.
I was vitriolic,
without the wealth I seek,
became a workaholic,
for seven days a week.
Adrenaline was my certain need,
you were a voyeur sure,
I always wanted faster speed,
***** seemed your only cure.
Gambler's chips line all your shelves,
I bet on caffeine's sway,
you are Santa with steroid elves,
shopping - your passion play;
we're video games that run ourselves,
for twenty-four hours a day.
You cut yourself so many times,
carving addiction's text,
I drown myself with a metered rhyme,
before looking for the next.
Bulimia made you ascendant,
chocolate broke my fall,
I thought we were codependent,
But I never had you at all.
During a sultry summer’s afternoon,
when anyone can melt away and swoon,
nothing can cool us off quite as nice
as a generous helping of Italian water ice.
Slaves of Roman emperors from ages ago,
would trek into the mountains to gather snow.
They brought it down to mix with fruit and honey.
Thus, we have ambrosia that came to be.
For most folks, it is a seasonal treat.
Anytime in the summer, it is cool and sweet.
With lots of different flavors galore,
once you try some, you will be back for more.
We are familiar with traditional lemon and cherry.
However, have you tried mango and black raspberry?
How about exotic Italian anisette?
Wagering you will like them all is a safe bet.
Those are not the scent of roses in the breeze.
It is more like the smell of aged provolone cheese.
It wavers along with some olive oil and oregano.
Those are some scents I already know.
Who is lurking nearby do I suppose?
It is none other than my dear Hoagie-nose!
She is a woman I can’t possibly forget.
Everywhere she follows me this Italian coquette.
This ragazza has a kiss as sweet as anisette.
This little woman always accommodates a man.
That’s why she drives around in a mini van.
She makes sure the fellow is nice and comfy
in the back of her Chrysler Town and Country.
There was a valuable lesson I would learn.
The flames of passion gave me a third-degree burn.
We crossed the Rubicon to the point of no return.
My Hoagie-nose and I will tie the knot in June.
We will be joining forces around the rise of the full moon.
Yes, this little Italian doll is the one I must choose.
Her daddy made me an offer I couldn’t refuse.
It’s another workday morning
Waiting in a barroom
Drinking coffee with anisette
Surrounded by tired hookers
And their empty knowing eyes
He’ll be down in another two cups
Blurry eyed and sullen as always
And we’ll head off to another home
improvement project.
This one is a second floor rosewood deck
Or heart of cedar
Or whatever
I’ve priced it out to cover
The wake up and wait
He’d do it for half as much
The girls after trying daily
Have given up on me
So it’s a lot more peaceful wait
It’s how my brother in law and I
Survive between union jobs