'Twas early in the morning when I woke.
An eerie silence had so sneakily descended,
or was it the perception of a loss,
a novel emptiness, unknown to me 'til now?
There was a scribbled greeting in red lipstick
pinned to the outer part of our bathroom door,
explaining briefly she was leaving me for good,
and that a sudden haste allowed no further talk.
I rushed with purpose to my walnut-panelled bar,
where I was greeted by a favourite friend of mine.
'Hi, Brother Jack', I mumbled, got myself a glass.
And I could see that suddenly, and as of now
my world would be not only beautiful but free.
She left, so WHAT, one who was never welcome,
there are so many female fishes in the sea.
But, in comparison, I know a better way:
A gentleman named Jack - It works for me.
Indeed he does. They met in Tennessee, on a rather rainy day. It was the day before the local elections. Scrapple was served, with hot Southern mustard and Corn Bread with baked on bacon bits. The two gentlemen partook of the other's spirit, not liking it at first but, as time wore on, the enjoyment was mutual. So it was that Gentleman Jack will occasionally be seen with a glass of Glen Fittock on his porch, enjoying the sunset and Glen Fittock has fitted a sign to his horse barn saying 'Jack Lives Here'.
Does he happen to know my friend 'Glen Fittock' which my friend i turn to in similar circumstance, when i have to blot out a womans face and presence It kills the shock, of having your freedom back Warm regards allan
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Love the poem and comments. BTW, Jack, Jim, Glen, Johnny Black and Jose. All my favorite men. ;)