Men are like Posts...

As a man I freely admit,

How truly like a post I am,

My memory does not serve me too well,

My brain seems to gone all to hell…

When trying to recall, my freshman year in high school,

I seem to draw a blank, but my friends and family all do recall,

What I did, who I did it to and when I did it to them, guess that’s all,

For I have no memory of my first date with Rene’,

Although she remembers it all, as did my mom and friends…

We walked hand in hand and chose a song for our love,

A Tommy James song that seemed to fit us like that of a glove,

Cold was the night we walked, on Ocean City’s main street,

Awaiting her dad to drive us home from our dance, so neat,

Rene was then and will forever be, my dove of peace & love,

So sorry I have no memory of that time, things are a mess in my mind,

Conglomerations of things I did as a kid, all wrapped together in a grid…

So men can be a post, the post being the one in their pants,

And the lack of a brain in our heads, I freely admit to needing a transplant,

As for this brain I have got, is just so much a plant,

With a few leaves and flowers missing, wait a minute, what’s crawling around in there,

                Maybe a few ants…?

                     © ed – 4/17/04