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Wednesday, August 7, 2013

Calvin and Hops

A pattern poem—7-syllable lines
(except the very last line, with 8),
7-line stanzas, and 7 stanzas total.

He knocks back another Coors
and vents at the barkeeper:
“Why did they have to do it?
He wash my friend—my conschience—
And now he’sh gone forever!”
He breaks down in drunken sobs;
other patrons look away.

The barkeeper sighs deeply.
He opens another beer
and sets it in front of him.
“Cal,” he mutters, “get a life.
You’re what, twenty-seven now?
That tiger was ALWAYS stuffed.
When are you going to grow up?”

“NOOO!” Calvin wails. It’s so sad!
He slurs his words when he talks.
“He wash vibrant and alive.
We did sho much together!”
He stares at the bartender
but doesn’t really see him.
“We were sho much more than friendsh…”

The bartender backs away
and holds up his hands. “Whoa, Cal!
I think I’m open-minded—
you have to be, in a bar—
but that’s just too much for me!
For God’s sake, Calvin… at least
tell me you wore a condom?”

Calvin scrunches up his face
and wags a finger at him.
“You, shir, are a filthy man.
It washn’t like that at all.
We wash merely plutonic…”
he thinks a bit “…platonic.
That toga party don’t count.”

“You gotta move on, Calvin,”
the barkeeper says. “Nothing
in this world lasts forever…
not even stuffed animals.
You should find yourself a girl
and settle down, have some kids.
You’re too young to act like this.”

A businessman walks in and
places a stuffed teddy bear
on the stool beside him. “It’s
for my kid’s birthday,” he says.
Calvin leers at it and says,
“He’sh too old for you, cute shtuff.
Wanna ride in my love wagon?”

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