THE DAY AFTER SAINT PATRICK'S
The Irish in my blood is putting up a fight
Blame it on the holiday if you like
Don't ask me how I know
Last night it was you on the phone
Conspiring with the clerk
I must have read it in the smoke
Vamoose from burning thoughts of you
As I try to do my work
I hoped for you; I do
After the click, after the tone
Did you at once feel like a jerk
You know I want the time of day
Not tell me it, but give me it
What do you fear when love you shirk
My ante is on the table
What's more, we play by your rules
One's lack of busyness or places to go or people to see
Does not make them dull and/or needy
There happens to be more conviction and vision in the ideas of my imaginary amigo here
Than in all your St. Patty's Day drinking friends combined
I will never leave home for seven months or more
To make easy money for Shell, Inc
You are not my last-ditch attempt
Nor will I be your eleventh hour resort
I know what you must be thinking, even now
Where did this guy come from
To be clear: I believe in you
I am not pushing for a verdict
I am for the implementation of vulnerable deliberation
Just so you know, that first night, the hat trick,
I wasn't even thirsty
I like the way you lead me on
It's therapeutic for my arrogance
And motivation for my ongoing revelation
So, actually, I should say, keep it up
Don't you worry, nothing's been pigeon-holed
Although I hear that pigeons are some of the smartest birds
And also quite trainable
I never quite know how to leave off
Maybe you can help me with that
I suppose that I could have it all wrong
In which case, please forgive me
But I just had one of those feelings
Like I know exactly what's going on here
And, unfortunately for me, believe me,
I have never been wrong
However, I'm willing to make an exception for you, dear
May I propose a toast
Here's to looking forward to possible things
Warm regards, really
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- Published:
- 12:48 PM
- by PAT RICK
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