Chardonnay on Carmine

The tipsy twosome pivots for the railing
Unbottled work day on sun-starched roof
A flaky iron graveyard of wine and daisies
Cab horn choir, the jackhammer fugue
Scores the cooler gossip from fact to myth
Corkscrew dreaming over scented concrete
Lifts the dull to the unwanting sky.

Puppet Judas

Fishing around apparitions
Half-drunk on failure
I'm still rinsing blood
from the back of my shirt
A career warped by wanton anticipation
Dark wishes of a turncoat youth
Your puppet army, feckless in felt
Disgraced two masters of heart
Lost to critics, scuppered by time
My pride remains tarnished.

Eggs Are Waiting.

We crashed your tawdry, borrowed hoe-down
Drinks for free, too strong the bait
In and out, round and down
Who leads the way calls the tune
Your dress is spent, it needs a rest
The boots are loose on cufflink cowboy
Sausage taskforce stuffed with hubris
Issues out the call for partners
High heels soar with clinging hem lines
DJ rub that magic lamp
Tomorrow wastes away, spent by rhythm
Cabbies idle, eggs are waiting.

Tidy Lines

Held to his grass
by gravity and gravitas
he orders nature weekly
with repeated steady passes
of riding mower paintbrush
Master Sergeant, greatest generation
tidy lawn, tidy soul
what blueprints do his thoughts now follow
line after line, week after week
underneath his battalion cap?

Parachute Pants

Shackled to Lloyd Dobler's boombox,
My generation gargles on geeky optimism
Where Ferris never gets caught
And Jake is real in the end
Is this produced vision rotting our souls?
Or can you will a fairy tale to life?
Left wanting on 80's entitlement, beware
the Stay-Puft Marshmallow Man.