Lawrence S. Pertillar
Pour As Much Of It As You Want - Poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Who you knew and what you knew,
About who and why back in the day.
When back in the day was...
Behind the times even then,
When molasses moved faster than folks...
Who claimed to eat snails on planes.
And some were calling that mess escargot!
Dipping it in horse radish and cocktail sauce?
I didn't know.
I just ate them.
People like that,
Slapping fancy names on common stuff...
I aint got time for.
And today those times have not changed.
Not that much.
And nothing you have to say,
Is of a concern to me.
Those days are behind me!
Packed way in the back,
Of my dusted memories.
And the truth shall set you free.
Are you here to represent or deliver grief?
Which is it?
Since I certainly can not accept,
Your presence on my doostep...
As a chance encounter!
Nor am I into prolonging mysteries.
You are here to spread fresh gossip,
On someone you suspect I know well.
I can tell.
And you could not wait to get here,
To get my reaction!
Am I right?
Let me clear the air and say this to you,
So I can get it out in the air...
Open and over with!
Before you think you'd find me in that same frame of mind.
I hate to disappoint you...
I just removed some frozen chicken wings from the frig.
And they will take at least twenty minutes to thaw.
How much time you got?
I got all night! '
Well, come on in!
You standing outside like I can afford to heat it.
I ain't got it like that!
Come on in and close the door.
And I'll fix us a nice pot of hot tea.
And feel free to pour as much of it as you want.
How you been?
I was just saying the other day...
It sure would be good to see you.
And here you are.
God is good aint He?
And works in such mysterious ways.
Comments about Pour As Much Of It As You Want by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
- Still I RiseMaya Angelou
- The Road Not TakenRobert Frost
- If You Forget MePablo Neruda
- DreamsLangston Hughes
- Annabel LeeEdgar Allan Poe
- Stopping By Woods On A Snowy EveningRobert Frost
- IfRudyard Kipling
- I Do Not Love You Except Because I Love YouPablo Neruda
- Do Not Stand At My Grave And WeepMary Elizabeth Frye
- TelevisionRoald Dahl