"Why don't you write romantic poems no more?"

"Why don't you write romantic poems no more?"

She called and said, hi, long time no talk.

You've stopped calling; you don't write me poems no more

What happened to your affection for me of yore

Are you giving me a walk as you did to other women before?

I coughed and choked and stuttered and stammered

I tried to speak but had difficulty get my words out

I hemmed and hawed like I got hit with a hammer

How could I explain to her she had lost her glamor?

Mercifully, she hung up on me after saying, "Go to hell, little prick!"

So that was how women typically behaved, all bitches 

Making me rolling all over the floor in stitches 

If only she had acted like a real lady, I'd have been heartsick 

She didn't know by acting rude, she confirmed what I suspected of her

All soft, sweet, tender, ladylike of before was not for real

All inconsistencies, stingy, falsely prideful, nose up in air, I wouldn't care

She didn't know understanding and patience are qualities of appeal

I was tempted to call her back and said, you've got me all wrong

I ain't no fool, nor a little prick, but the conversation would be too long

In time, her heart would tell her what was really going on

Seize the day, grab the brass ring, go for broke, jump into the fire

Meet me out in the middle of the lake in early winter on thin ice

Hold me tight and then dance and skate with me all through the night

If we fall down and drown, so what? True love is really crazy

All started with a feeling, making the vision all hazy

Yes, I believe in Romeo and Juliet, in impossible dreams

In tenderness, in swimming against the current upstream

I fear realism and practicalities for deep down I'm real crazy

I still long for soft, sweet, susurrous sound of puppy love 

Even though I am an old man of sixty-four 

I still dream to row the boat with my beloved to the other shore 

Wissai

November 17, 2013