Do You Know This Sailor? Poem by Arrianna Prentiss

There is someone unpredictable,

who most think is very smart,

he's rude in his many personality's,

and his womanizing's tart.

He's a sailor in his own right,

and his favorite colors red,

he has an electronic parrot that used to talk

and it hangs above his bed.

He sometimes gets breakfast at DD,

and he's not very organic,

he seems to fancy strawberries,

and his lunch spot is usually Panera.

In most cases, he's uncomfortable in most places,

except for the places he knows,

he's awkward in almost all situations,

and his maturity rarely grows.

He's a 6''2'' walking banana head,

and his hair is as golden as the sun,

he's not super thin,

but he's fairly athletic,

although I don't think he'd ever run.

His father got him his sex shots,

for a reason not appropriate to discuss,

and being that he's not a man of romance,

Billy Joel was convinced it was just 'a matter of trust'.

He spends most of his winter days,

skiing the slopes of Vermont and Maine,

the way he acts, is out of whack,

and there's only him to blame.

He is an only child,

he has no sisters or a brother,

his favorite ice cream is Strawberry Lemonade,

and he watches, How I Met Your Mother.

Graveyards make him nervous,

and he has false belief in unearthly things,

although if on a ghost tour,

you may distinctly hear him scream.

It's very hard to explain,

but he's extremely complicated,

the things he does,

the things he says,

can get someone really frustrated.

He's in scouts practically 24/7,

and he's been in the science fair since I'm guessing about eleven.

He has his Vigil and Eagle Scout Honor,

he was born in Boston (MA) ,

and drinks a beverage called Monster.

I here he's taking driving lessons,

but I'm not sure if it's true,

his late grandma left him a Cadillac,

and I think he should make the interior Blue.

Once it was my birthday,

and he gave me this horrible gift,

and God, don't mention Valentine's Day,

when I wanted to punch him in his rib.

I brought him to this dance once,

where his parents didn't come,

because of this, I think it was,

the reason he had fun.

He introduced me to sailing at CBI, in Boston,

where I had a good time all and all,

sailing on the Charles can be majestic,

unless the waters where you fall.

He's always lived among,

the inner city pressure,

and when he orders a sub,

he wants a Meatball Marinara.

In almost every conversation,

his words, they come out wrong,

he reeks of thoughts and questions,

when he stares at you to long.

Weather he's sailing on the ocean,

or staggering upon the land,

if he appears to do one thing right,

he'll think he's hot stuff while yelling 'BAM! '

And when I see his face,

practically all the time,

I can feel him in the words,

of this simple rhyme.

He who wears red every day,

did not at all have very much to say,

he simply slept and when he woke,

he zippered up his big red coat.

© Arrianna Prentiss