They landed in the capital city,
a charming place, but it was a pity
that attractive buildings were not maintained
or looked after at all, but still retained
their original grace, with brass-knockered doors,
and balconies projecting from every floor.
George and his crew went out for a walk,
and wandered through a maze of alleys,
hearing on all sides the people talk
in Spanish, but they did not dally,
but continued until they saw the ocean,
with waves describing a circular motion,
as they frothingly fell on a shore of white
endlessly stretching until out of sight.
The water was calm in shades of blue,
with sometimes a fishing boat in view,
but the beach was empty, no people there,
no swimmers, no sunbathers, not a deckchair.
No children playing and laughing with glee,
just a deserted strand and a tranquil sea.

From The Adventures of George
©Blair Gowrie (Roderick Macdonald)

I want to spend every day in a bar.
Drunk or not,
the atmosphere relaxes me.
To read a book,
to chat it up,
to get knockered too early.
I want to do it all in a bar.
Preferably one made of dark wood and many stories.

To become a regular looks bad in retrospect,
because no one believes its a place of good tidings.
It is though.

*****, bourbon, bar tenders ears.
Therapy free of charge. (unless you order something)

I want to spend my life in a bar,
sad to the public,
but bliss on my tombstone.

Number two gets knocked around
Snockered and knockered by
Plans backfired.

But Orville knows deep in his heart
(that is red red red as his nose)
That number two is still good, too.

One, golden, pure as driven snow cones
Head high held in the ozones
Knows not what just misfired.

Number three, trickster, conspired:
Pitting one against two.
What transpires inspired is clown!