On The Tiles By Lee Cassanell

When I look back at the end of my life I'll remember the night with my substitute wife In a Tavern near Cork were the locals still talk Of the Drinkers who crawled out the sea. I came to that place with a harem of hippies We filled up the table with Guinness and Whiskies And puffed cigarettes like they'd gone out of fashion The theories flowed freely as smoke She looked like a plane crash the first time we met But I saw through her mask of Bacardi and phet When she sang Love me do and threw up in my bed I could see that the lady had class. We talked about Hendrix and slagged off the Stones Texted poems to friends in their faraway homes As the clock ticked to ten we were dead in our clothes But we drank until Midnight passed over I swayed in my seat as her eyes filled with wine She was fresh out of words I was all out of rhyme When the barman suggested Tequila and Lime We thought hey what the hell Live a little

Copyright ©2004  Lee Cassanell

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