Poor Baby
I thought it was my flowing locks
And handsome face that made her
Stay. But, later, I learned that
Somebody told her that I had
Some weed or nose candy and
That I was a known big spender.
Poor baby. I was caught in the
Drought just like everyone else
And my spending habits were,
By necessity, limited to fives, tens,
And on rare occasions a Jackson.
The fridge had Kool Aid but it
Wasn’t electric and the cold pizza
Was just as chillin’ cold yesterday.
It wasn’t long before “I gotta go”
Crept into the conversation.
That was a shame but that’s life.
Sometimes things work out and
Sometimes things just fizzle out.
It was all for the best anyway.
Her husband was comin’ over later
Bringin’ a six pack and a couple
Wild women.
©2022 Daniel S. Irwin All rights reserved.
Daniel S. Irwin was born, raised, and is back in town at Sparta, Illinois. His card reads: Artist, Actor, Writer, Soldier, Scholar, Priest. He has won awards for his art, acting (over 100 films and 30+ stage productions), writing (nine books and work published in over one hundred magazines and journals worldwide), retired military (Air Force and Army), graduate of Southern Illinois University/Carbondale and has attended four other universities), and is an ordained Dudeist priest with a Ph.D. in Divinity (not bad for a heathen). Once worked as a medic in an institution for the criminally insane…but didn’t notice anything strange about the inmates. Latest online work can be found on Horror, Sleaze, Trash Magazine and Beatnik Cowboy. He would love to move back to Europe but fears the plague.
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