Voyeur
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
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