[lit-ideas] Love Poem # 325

  • From: "Mike Geary" <atlas@xxxxxxxxxxxxx>
  • To: <lit-ideas@xxxxxxxxxxxxx>
  • Date: Fri, 23 Sep 2005 01:16:40 -0500

Oh, Oh, Tragedy


It's like when it's two o'clock on a Sunday morning
and totally without warning 
you realize you're out of beer --
you know that fear?
yeah and all the bars are closed and the stores can't sell til noon
aw man, don't that turn your heart into a prune?
And everybody's been singing in tune
and you've been feeling so plumlicious,
then it all turns meretricious.
A tragedy.
A true tragedy.
Like having only one glove.
Or like love.
Yeah, love's like that when your love's not around.
and you're feeling like Ophelia drowned
like that feeling of mourning
when you're out of beer
at two o'clock on a Sunday morning.
And you know you got to wait til noon.
Love is like that, like being marooned.


Mike Geary
Memphis

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  • » [lit-ideas] Love Poem # 325