now I'm a shipwreck in a sundress,
an aimless, shameless coquette –
a first kiss, a second guess,
a weak and wobbly pirouette.

On our imaginary continent
people treat their bodies like Violins

to be played
mastered by stray chaos
from music un made

The paths are strewn with
strange fruit and tender tourists

our way to sea is dissembled by
sheet music awry in coastal wind

"I don't really like sports."

I feel like
you've been mis-advertising
yourself.

On your profile
your likes are:
Soccer.
Basketball.
Football.
And
Rugby.

"That's cool."

I'll say anything to get
a girl
to let me stick my hands
in her pants;
even if it means
sacrificing
morals
and
sports.

Charles D. Jay died on October 12, 2011
My great uncle
I never said one word to him my whole life
In the will he left my grandma everything
He was crushed after the death of his wife in 2010
And then the death of his dog Sandy in early 2011
Then like clockwork colon cancer

Walking into that house
The smell of coffee and old carpet
A smell I was all too flamiliar with
Growing up in Southern Baptist churches
You can't get away from stuff like that

He left it all in that house
Just packed in
Room after noon
Were talking about a little mansion here
He had a dining room and everything
Big old piano that he must have enjoyed playing
I took that old thing and loaded up all by myself in the back of a pick up and now its at home
In the middle of my livingroom
With drink circles and ash trays like at some club

Making it back to the house
I checked his study
Filled with books
And beautiful black vinyl records
Every single jazz musician from Dizzy to Armstrong
He had em' all the standards- the jivers-big band-street bands
Even the priceless club jam sessions
People clapping
And yellin
Hollerin'
Trumpets and sax
Foot tapping
Needless to say
I spent the rest of that night drunk on Charle's most expensive bottle of gin
Jazz records
Pulled from sleeves
On the couch
Covering the floor
Every record he had ever bought
That was his real funeral
Because I know if I died
I would want someone to listen through every song I ever loved

Life’s a *****, you must surely agree,
There are so many reasons that show this to me,
For instance, I just get the hang of the words to a song,
Then I find out the words I’ve been singing are wrong.

And why when out to dinner to impress a young lady,
Does my sleeve end up doing the “crawl” in the gravy?
Or sat at the bar; comes the moment to kiss,
Do I lean forward coolly and utterly miss?
Toppling face first from that three legged stool,
As I grin up inanely from a best bitter pool.

I remember my sports car, fast and blue,
With the wind in my hair, she really flew,
Strong and good looking, and to my touch, compliant,
(Though I did once get “burnt off” by a Robin Reliant.)
But “No” I digress, the story to tell,
Is the first time I took out a young girl called Michelle,
She had a nice smile; I thought she was great,
I walked her from her door, and held open the gate,
We got in the car, and made ready to go,
For a meal for two in a candlelit glow,
I turned the ignition and clickety click,
Nice time to choose for the starter to stick,
Under the car with a spanner and torch,
Whilst Michelle spent the evening sat on her porch.

And when I got married,
Thought thank God that’s all over,
Now for a life of roses and clover,
Ha, Ha - not on your life, not on your nelly,
Not like it is when they do it on telly,

I mean, when they’re in bed and they fancy a nibble,
You don’t see them smile and then start to dribble,
So your lover has hysterics, fit to bust,
Which doesn’t do much for the ***** of lust!
And in romantic movies - where are the tissues?
You see, for me, these just aren’t small issues.

So one thing I’ve learned and drawn a conclusion,
Is that life being perfect is just an illusion,
And it’s best not to worry about small imperfection,
For deep down philosophy’s just pure conjection,
So a far better line to put an end to this fable,
Is “Just laugh and just love as much as you’re able”.