Greatness

 

I can’t have many things I like. For example, I can’t have a pinto horse.
I apologize to my country for being bad at math.
I am getting self-incinerated by boredom, so that’s fair.
In fact, I think this is the uppermost of boredom,
like a tiger chewing on a velvet sofa cushion.

 

I don’t try to seem very intelligent anymore.
I am beyond such effects.
Like a false limb full of stolen pearls.
Do you want me to write a poem?
Then hold my flask.

 

I’m not a blooming wreck, if that’s what you mean.
A thousand times I’ve almost decided to throw everything overboard.
You mustn’t get any silly ideas into your head about me.
I’ve never flopped on you yet, have I?
I’m a howling success, darling.

 

If someone’s really happy, can they be no good?
Now, don’t start trembling without me.
I demand several pittances!
Don’t worry. I’ve known myself forever.
One word of praise would cause me to act contrary to my own self-interest.

 

It’s just a poem, not a platter of brains.
So don’t give me any lucky breaks.
Is it our fault no one fawns on us?
Let’s not get forced into the mirrored casket of greatness.
It’s easier to write this than to write nothing.

 

I’m a stranger but not in my poems.
This is not an emerald mine.
It’s for somebody alive!
The only real disgrace is the refusal to believe in or listen to your fellow man!
Somebody better kiss me when I say that.

 

 

 

 

 

Drinking

 

Now look here, I feel swell.
We’ve been doing some high-class guzzling.
May I ask why the honor of this visit?
Are we sleeping or dancing?
Lunch is poured.

 

Aren’t I some kind of human being?
Or am I just a dead swan?
Baby, why aren’t we drunk?
Am I swaying?
Well, stop playing that crazy xylophone.

 

Are you a man or an iceberg?
If you’re afraid of me, then go lock yourself in a cage.
Don’t try to give me any peace and quiet.
Now it’s time for everyone to get their drink poured.
Bring me a fresh leopard!

 

You’ve completely gone out of my mind.
I think it ought to have a very healthy effect on me.
You think a kiss from a smooth operator means anything?
How about a little drink?
Now, that should have been the first thing you said.

 

Someone says they’re going to buy you a drink but they just pour you one.
Please don’t shout after I’ve had my daiquiris!
I like to curl up on the couch in high heels.
I love you, darling, but don’t you think it’s immaterial?
Dynamite couldn’t get me out of this chair.

 

I’ve tapered down to two quarts a day now.
Isn’t it wonderful?
My whole outlook on life has changed.
Licentious, profane, obscure and contrary to the good order of the community.
Who wouldn’t come to their senses?

 

 

 

 

 

Fights

 

Point of information: What do you know about anything?
I’ll give you extra time to figure it out.
No, I’m not going to cry.
I’m going to smash the geraniums.
Do you mind, darling?

 

I like it when you shake your fist at a painted portrait.
May I ask why you’re so terrible?
I love you but you want to go to blazes.
Have you ever even tasted my tears?
The empty champagne glasses were waiting beautifully.

 

Don’t look at me with that sparkle.
I don’t like it.
Everyone shouldn’t ruin everything.
I never win an argument, but there are other things in life.
Does anybody ever get that look out of their eyes?

 

I’ve had the right attitude once or twice.
I nearly went out of my mind.
What are you? A perfect rat?
I adore rats. Rats are sweet.
Now, let’s have some yelling.

 

Darling, this is a cylindrical satin sofa cushion.
I’m going to beat you with it.
Now, a lot of people don’t know what I’m talking about.
That’s what’s so wonderful.
I’m afraid I’m going to have to accept that free ticket out of town.

 

Bulletin: You’re no good.
I don’t care who catches it.
It’s a swell night for a cry.
That’s KO with me.
Let’s have ringside seats.

 

Bulletin: You’re still no good.
I think you’re the most no-good person I’ve ever known.
And that concludes tonight’s sermon.
I know what you’re thinking.
Maybe we’d get somewhere.

 

 

 

 

Image © Don…The UpNorth Memories Guy… Harrison

The Editor’s Chair: On Christine Montalbetti
Shirley from a Small Place