Happy St. Patrick's Day!

THE TAB OF AN IRISHMAN

Damn that which swelled within
causing anger, and then the end.
Instead of treating life like wine
sipping, not tipping, a thing so fine,
I forced her down, drunk as hell
until she left, and the bottle fell.
Then I lay upon the floor
amid the pity, a timid bore
screaming out that I'd been kicked,
my heart, my soul, they'd all been tricked!
I cursed that jester, cursed his name,
'til I took pause, for mine was the same.
Was it true? Was it I?
That bid she leave, that sad goodbye?
It was. It is. I brought this 'bout
when all she asked was time without
the pressure, the hurting, and the fear,
but I sipped not once, I did not hear.
Within her heart did a cancer seed,
and in my darkness I gave it speed,
letting it fester, build, and grow
and when came fall, the time to sow
it was ripe, it left the vine
along with which it took my wine.
Then it was I rose from the floor,
put on my jacket, and made for the door.
Glancing back I was glad to see
that what I left was the weakened me.
I stepped outside and gave a shout,
"I've gotten rid, the beast is out!"
And although the street was brisk and bare,
I had to smile, for I knew out there
was the girl of whom I drank too fast,
and though she left my drunken past,
I had the faith that after a while
she would return my heart, and I her smile.
And so it is with empty glass
I await the day to enjoy my lass.

DRIVING TO WORK ON A MONDAY MORNING

With socks not matching, shorts and hat
I drove slowly by the "hey baby" catcalls
of thirteen year old girls smoking cigarettes
on the far end of the football field
during their catholic school recess,
wondering if it was me, or the car.