Polished cutlery candle
Heart table fruit
Covered in sugared biscuit
I'm home for the celebration of Santy and birth
Of Jaysus
And last year I was in the same confounded net
Caught swimming in the same water
But you're
Mother material
A golden haired ride
Baby skinned and
Well shaped
But what am I but a hungry barfly
An early ossified riser, bus taker, seeker of cures
And roasted nuts
A chancer. A man.
No less than others. No more than others.
A man with balls and cock that small in the chill
A man of housepets
A man of vin de table and the doghouse
A man defeated by the unresponsive,
The eager to tease
A man taunted and haunted
By past, present and future girlfriends
And wives and mothers with uncut nails
Wet gowls and closets
Fulls of shoes closets full of stories 'bout past
Lovers with polished cars and ties,
Millionaire da's, snow teeth .
And what am I? What?Wha?
Irish. Child of divorce. Single.
Shaped out. Booze hound. Childless.
Dogless, Not wordless.
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