tell me a tonic


and I'll pour you some lies.


you've got a beautiful sunset;


just look at those eyes.


see how the smoke fills my glass


and the gin fills my room?


yes, my child died in the sea


as I walked 'long her womb.


I like my T-bones black now


and my coffee medium rare.


pull up a tree


and we'll go chop down a chair.


let's go shop at the church


and we'll pray at the mall.


I'll climb you a rose


and I'll pick you a wall


to keep it pressed in your thoughts


and fresh in a book


like the dinners you share


or the stories you cook


or the cake that you brush


or the hair that you burn


the butter you read


or my mind that you churn--


the pillow you brew...


or the hot tea that you fluff...


when the tickling rings


and the phone is enough;


and we force our goodbye's


as we speak with our hands.


you know you're someone I'll never remember,


but I will understand.


and your image grows darker


as the night I find smaller.


and I'm forced to explain about the lipstick on the odometer


and the mileage on my collar.


and I have a fight with my reason


(as I justify my wife)


for having no spice in our love


because we quit making life.

11/20/2007

Author's Note: an oldie I found.

Posted on 11/20/2007
Copyright © 2025 David Garner