How To Tie A Tie. Poem by John W. McEwers

Before we even start
have that tie in your hand.
this won't work
unless you commit.

Grip it tight, wrap the ends
around your fists
hold it like a garrote,
pretend she's in front of you
gagging like a duck stuck
in one of those pop can rings.

When the blood vessels
bursting obscures this mirage
go ahead and loosen your grip
Smooth out the wrinkles
you've no doubt created
and carefully, round your neck,
drape it.

Leave just enough hanging
to maybe, possibly, tie up a noose,
swing the fat side over,
then remember how fat you've grown
and how she never missed
any opportunity
to point that out.

Swing the fat side over the skinny
again, like you're crawling
over her in bed.
Squeeze the fat through
that newly made loop
and yank like you want to
pop off your head.

Stare in the mirror at the wreck
you've become,
and tear off your tie in a rage.
Cry in the bathtub
curled up in a ball
and recount the joys of marriage.

How she was supposed
to be betrothed
and tied to you forever.

I love you Kate, come back...