Blue Poem by Percy Dovetonsils

Blue

The Stanford girl
in the hotel room
in Madrid
waited
and
wondered
how I had managed
to
resist
her delicious
invitation.

Well,
it’s like this.
I was an idiot,
so I went with the big
Norwegian/Mexican/Alaskan girl,
the professional cocktease,
to Bilbao,
instead.

We drank new wine
in the cool Galician
rain,
watched
the moonlight play
on the Bay of Biscay
and dry humped,
fruitlessly,
maddeningly,
in her cabin
as we sailed
to Southampton.

In London
we caught three
West End plays
and my balls
grew
royal blue
before
we were
through.

Stanford:
It’s clear
I blew it.

Will you forgive me?
Now that both of us are
faded
glories
and the
onrush
of possibility
has curdled
to
lost
opportunity?

Forgive me hell.
You don’t even remember me.
So much the better for you.
As for me
it’s the memory
of all I missed
that kills me,
and that I
live
for.



10/16/06