If ever there was a tale of such woe,
a tale of music, lust, and revelry!
Of Juliet and I, her Romeo,
when the reggae drums put a spell on me.
In my yen for Herbs and thirst for the vine
Romeo joined the queue full as a tick -
on the grapes of wrath, the mad feijoa wine
but it was like a mule with thrice the kick!
And there he rolled flatlining in a ditch -
“I beg you, leave me here…I wanna die!”.
Later with a skinful too numb to twitch
slumped in a bathtub hungover to dry.
All I want when I from this world am gone
is that men say he died with his boots on.
Written: July 2008
Categories:
feijoa, drink, wine,
Form: Sonnet