Absinthe At Home Poem by Mark Heathcote

I took a dozen red roses on Valentine's Day.

To a foxy wild young lady,

Hoping she'd take in a stray,

She has been just a few red doors away…

Just; a few red doors away.



I wanted her to cut her fine manicured fingers

I wanted her to break her hails her claws...

I wanted her to pluck out all my own, bleeding thorns.

And whisper down into my soul and say, baby, you're a keeper.



But she was a drinker

But she was drinking Absinthe at home alone

And she said, who the hell - are you!

Have you come here to drink out of my glass slipper?

My shoe, who the hell - are you - this isn't your home!



Then she too reminded me I only felt stoic strong…

If I too was drinking Absinthe at home alone

And she reminded me I only felt happy

Lying on my back; feeling empty, smelling of some old cologne.

…At the bottom of my sack.



So, I turned to take a dozen red roses on Valentine's Day back.

And as I turned to be on my way

She said boy come on back here you look like a stray

And I need a lay…



She was a foxy wild young lady,

I was hoping she'd take in a stray,

She has been just a few red doors away…

Just; a few red doors away.



I wanted her to cut her fine manicured fingers

I wanted her to break her hails her claws…

I wanted her to pluck out all my own, bleeding thorns.

And whisper down into my soul and say, baby, you're a keeper.



She was a drinker

She was drinking Absinthe at home but no longer alone.