Sweet memory, like a lobster tail
Dip in Blove smackalicious sauce
dripping hot, with stings of green onions
Mouthwatering, finger licking, and yes
Fattening for one thighs,
That yummy feeling of so good,
so, hot, so hot, so delicious:
My guilty pleasure, my greasy late-night foods
When the memory of unpleasant moments
Creep up on me....so that is when I focus on my lobster tail:
I let in the past so often, I think
A poet, his past, his future, his demons like a
drunkard who never remembers his yesterdays
A phrase my mother seldom uses to control to my father,
After a long weekend of *****
it’s so true sometimes I cannot
stop myself from going back to my past
In order to make a connection with my future
Oh, the things we do for love,
Oh, the things we have to endure,
In hope of receiving love:
Such cold thought, such headaches.
Life without Love is as a flower without fragrance.
Richard B. Garnett
