It’s true I complain too much and loudly,
but even Emily Post had an unkind word or two;
while you… you say nada, nada, nada –
as if nothingness was a word for true love.
Maybe I’m wrong for hounding you, dog of my bone:
you prance around, pout and pounce; yes, yes,
I know the truth, I’m an overbearing louse:
a slovenly god of trucks and motor oil,
a grim knight of beer and whiskey: of late, your spouse!
But what would you have me be?
Oh, forget it, I know already:
you’d have me dressed in white,
a shiny knight with the midas touch,
a singing jester, or Fred Astaire –
dancing till Midnight;
you’d have me bare and prim,
mated to leather chains by Armani.
Well you can have your Prince in fetish leathers now,
I’m through with this minstrelsy of slights and spites;
I’ll be the Black Prince of Shadows —a lover’s curse:
plunderer of far kingdoms, despair’s dark brother,
till you relent this silly game of tease —
kiss me quickly fool, before I fall down and beg you, too!
– Steven Craig Hickman ©2014 Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author is strictly prohibited.