ACCOUNTS FROM THE WEEKEND THAT PASSED

You,

The guy with a personality of sorts,

Riding your posh Range Rover Sports,

Feeling high,

Like Saul.

Me,

David,

And I am not playing a harp,

Instead,

I am playing your words in my mind.

It is clear,

To me and the motorist at your rear,

That you are a King,

With blinding gold bling,

And a leather throne to match.

I feel numb,

I have turned dumb.

I feel like a lamb,

Comfortably seated in the lion’s den

Too caught up in the powerful allure to run.

I sit on the fence,

While he goes on and on about his feelings for me, what he does, who he knows……

“Men!”

I sigh inwardly while holding back.

Truly, the man sounds shallow,

But for his deep pockets.

Still, the latter makes up for his deficiencies,

The reason that I tolerate his babblings.

With the help of stiff whiskey,

I gather some peace letting myself go.

Now that we are both high,

I find his jokes quite appealing,

I find him less intimidating,

He begins to sound kinda real,

Again, I let myself go some more

Time crawls by,

Each moment more fun than the previous.

Time mocks me,

Time is sly,

“Have as much fun as you can for this will not last,” I hear it say.

I know this too, so I go ahead and call him boo.

He is as generous as he is mysterious,

He praises me yet I wonder if he will call back.

I put my gifts in a rather large sack,

My heart and my expectations as well.

I kiss him goodbye,

He whispers his lies,

I smile back knowingly.

I hear him speed away.

There goes my luck!