Cold Fusion Poem by Dave SmithWhite

I'm odds-on for losin', my once simple way.
I'm usin' and boozin', a sad man of clay.
I burn with cold fusion, my guilt unassuaged:
When my Susan is cruisin', the truck stops and lay.

Cold fusion. Cold fusion.
A story is told.
Cold fusion, illusions:
The whole pot of gold.
Cold fusion. Cold fusion.
Unknown to the world;
As hope springs in season,
New petals uncurl.

My Susan is oozin'; her liquid eye jade.
She is the full woman, so amply displayed.
But Susan is bruisin', like peach on a tray;
Turning tricks and jacuzzin', the truck stops and lay.

Cold fusion. Cold fusion.
More ancient than old:
The alchemist fable
Of riches untold.
Cold fusion. Cold fusion.
So very cold;
As heartbeats in winter,
Soft metals unfold.


I'm done with accusin', the gods in their play.
My role as chief victim, no longer holds sway.
My wonder and musin', is all shades of grey.
When my Susan is cruisin', the truck stops and lay.

Cold fusion. Cold fusion.
Deep in the soul.
Cold fusion, confusion,
And losin' control.
Cold fusion, emotion;
I feel for the girl.
Cold fusion, devotion;
My stiff flag unfurls.

My Suzy's no floozie, but what can I say?
Life's never easy: a price must be paid.
We're all pimps to something. Each dog has his day:
When my Susan is cruisin', the truck stops and lay.

Cold fusion. Cold fusion.
All lies and deceit;
If you think you are choosin',
Your life on the street.
Cold fusion, solutions,
I'm damned to repeat.
Cold fusion, delusions,
That burn without heat.