The gentle fog of last night’s revelry
Walking the streets before the sun
Overcorrecting the crooked events
Getting myself right before the day’s begun
Dreamscapes fading in these early hours
Scars to tell tales of an alternate narrative
Truth impedes the recital of our union
Clinging to our bodies not always so imperative
Setting the scene amidst several libations
Resulting in sloppy notes from the underground
These aren’t mundane epitaphs from stone
Rather just trinkets for creation to remain unbound
Dreams of pretty dancing girls
Tartan skirts & gold buckles on their shoes
Legs draped in such fine stockings
High kicks, but treasure out of view
The fantasy of a joyous party
Spirited music playing a bit loud
Fiddles & bagpipes; what a scene
You pulled me out of the dense crowd
Beauty of drinking black beer all day
My stature begins to slightly tilt
You quietly asked me for a light
But there’s no pockets in this kilt
Envisioning what the night might bring
Is it possible that you could be this real
Sharing a pint in a secluded corner
A second Guinness is considered a meal
So you think you want to be wild But you’ve never left the city gates Living within such structure Organizing a lush, manicured fate
Pushing forth the semblance of influence Yet, outwardly needing to create a scene Dreaming of an adventurous existence & what breaking free could possibly mean
Erratic rumblings first thing in the morning Thoughts all aglow from castiron candlesticks Sunrise hasn’t interrupted my intercession Another cup of coffee might ease my ticks
After watching too many hectic movie scenes A set of expectations upon our furrowed brow But I need to recede into my own soul Let us return to existing in the here & now
You’re happiest when spooning a salted bourbon & I’m certainly not one to overtly judge But I’m at a crossroads in this life From that woman; my heart defiantly won’t budge
These broken & delayed dreams Electric toothbrushes that constantly hum A pocketful of change & girls with eyes so pretty it makes me dumb
I’m not one to make a great scene Yet I’m your average middle-aged guy Not counted among the mundane I couldn’t be normal, even if I tried
So we’re all stuck in this spinning limbo A world with mixed up priorities & hate I’m confused by all this wasted time One of these days the hourglass will cease to rotate
So, I’m probably going to be late for work For my beautiful woman resides in this bed I could be responsible & get there on time But I’m always going to choose to love instead
A study in inexact notions Differences upon the prospective scene Our unruly burdens confound us Nothing to save us when life turns mean
Yet we can never let apathy rule the day In these times, we must be all the more aware Knowing truth can be unpopular Yet compassion is the way to genuinely care
Captain Q 