What He Doesn'T Know Won'T Hurt Him Either Poem by Ted Sheridan

Blurred by too much rum and too little cola.
His eyes roll out the red carpet onto his cheeks
just beyond the reach of his dehydrated tongue; hours
of cunnilingus had left him thirstier than a dried
up well in Ethiopia; Sore between the ears
he struggles to make his thoughts coherent
keys the front door and enters the kitchen
where he pours
another hair of the beast that ate his brain.
Returning from the scene of his latest crime
he looks at her lying there asleep in their bed,
with her bare breast exposed and looking
every bit as good as she did the day he married her.
Realizing....what a fool he's been, he gently strokes
her hair from her sleepy eyes and whispers
his promise to never again stray...
She silently purrs....at the scent of fresh fish on his breath...

2008 © T Sheridan