You Tell Me You’re Tired

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You tell me you’re tired

& don’t want to put on that dress

There’s so much to do

That your mind is a mess

But I’ve made arrangements

& the kids will be away

Tonight is only for us

Let me take away the day

Dinner is almost ready

Take this wine to the shower

I’ll put on your favorite waltz

We’ll dance into the latest hours

*previously published on former blog

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Reading The Braille Edition Of A Topless Sextant

 

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Reading the Braille edition of a topless sextant
Borderland sailors lost again above the tree line
Vicious handwriting left you pretty & potent
Dainty cherries plucked from Guerneville’s vine
Coffeehouse grunge wiped clean in your hands
Uninitiated lives failing to stand so fast & sure
Entitlements marked against your vacant lands
Discarded notes burned to return fresh & pure
Mermaids & alehouses swollen in a vamp rain
Self-imposed heartbreak mistaken for the blues
Trying to remember names of those who remain
Cautiously awaiting your new high-heeled muse
Writing a memoir regarding a nurse he skirted
Astral units left you with dingy change to spare
Noting the good stock with which she flirted
Winning the hearts, but the minds did not care
All your dreams left tied to the evening bedpost
Those rosy cheeks, offering you up a silent peek
Locked her in the room, staying white as a ghost
Mocking all the love & affection you still seek
Fingers toy with the scarf tied around her waist
The bard’s meaning left bewildering & obscured
Untied & left it hanging, waiting for your taste
Knowing your future holds your heart immured
Dedicated your words to the love of a woman
Sailing away from her, wiping away your tears
Too many free nights with the dark star to damn
Return trip bound by the change of distant years
Pressed into servicing you under the water tower
Releasing me to retreat & now be fallen asunder
Bathed atop the crow’s nest in a summer shower
Her loose dress allowed an easy chance to plunder
Busted in a brothel by shipmates on shore patrol
Her liberty cuffs showing us a full view of the bay
Wharf rats continuing down the hill out of control
Your Elizabethan Towers blocking the dreary day
Frayed hair in a yellowish hue flowing out & over
Dry rot found along our real estate, but I digressed
That Golden Gate shadowing my four-leaf clover
I’m lucky enough to find you had freshly undressed
Pirates full of malarkey & rum out in the shipyards
It was rot gut that ruined me & not rotten planks
He returned to port to find her old life now charred
Rising sun shines upon new beauty & I give thanks

Feelin’ Alright In Your Tight Pink Shirt

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Feelin’ alright in your tight pink shirt
Released in a shower down on Haight
Life-altering love spread between us
As we passed under the Golden Gate

Sweet summer flowers rising as I wake
Between coffeehouses on Avenue Nine
You never left my roaming thoughts
Always kept me warm in the sunshine

Walking silently together in the park
Remembering you fondly now as I jog
The weather never dampened my spirits
That old carousel rotating through the fog

Trees shade the bench where you shared
Words of peace, marked by a longing kiss
My view no longer holds ravenous beauty
Freedom wasn’t supposed to be like this