On One Stool Away Poem by Jim Boone

Sits Mr. Right and fate has brought me here.
On my way home from work on a preordained
TGIF day: ‘So, turn here; why not eat there;
Don't want to sit by them, go down there.'

'Hello, how is the Poet today? ' Fine, how
Do you know? Notoriety huh? Okay.

'Do you write often? ' Yes, every day.
'Etc.', etc., 'etc', etc. OMG,
Look at him! ! This is perfection
And I have no clue how to maintain
Any semblance of poetic decorum.

Look at that muscular arm and the
Golden fuzz of it; check out that
Footballer bod talking poetic leanings
That make me want to wax and wane
And dance with him all night long.

Fate can be cruel, fate can be oh so
Wonderful twixt then and now, right
After hallelujah and amen.

There's a press box with a view of
The playing field like none other.
There's a young man who has
Held onto knowledge and intent.
There's a master class instructor
With one last hope only one stool away.

Bless me Lord, for I am unrestrained,
Somewhere between Friday evening
And Saturday night, walking the walk,
Shoulder to shoulder, heart to heart.

Bottom Line: If it's all about two writers,
pity my heart, not me. Meet my new friend
in poetry, watch the female audience grow.