I'm no picnic -

that's a true story.

I was raised a charmer,

candy coated reality,

even ants seem palatable

when dipped in chocolate.

truth is acceptable only

if put in the right light.

It isn't polite to say those things,

and good Southerners always say,

Well ain't that nice instead of,

well, you know.

And I come across calm

and an easy breeze,

good time in the park,

floating down the river

on an inner tube,

igloo full of ice cold beer

in tow, feet dragging lines

in the ripples as the sun

bathes my tanning skin,

but then the plug is pulled,

and the water is drained,

and the serenity slips down

to show the ring around

the tub, the muddy water

that's home to anything

but what you would want

to consume.

But drag the bottom,

pull out the old tires

and broken glass,

clean out the sludge

and leeches,

take out the trash,

and there's beauty there,

sometimes I get a bit

polluted, convoluted,

lost in the whirlpool

of my own sins,

struggling with

instead of going with

the flow, taking you down

with me, until I hit bottom

and there face the final seconds

where I continue struggling

and damn us both or

relax enough to enjoy

your strokes,

work a foot on some piece

of limestone, foundation

beneath the decay,

old dinosaurs turning into

black gold, consumer's drug

ready to be pumped into

an already worn out vain,

leave it for the wild catter's

and their drills, I want to live

in our world, to rise,

kicking hard upwards

towards the light, where

you wait in the inner tube

built for two, cold beer in tow,

ready to paint the sun

on a finely woven cotton canvass,

handwoven visionary quilt to cover

the rest of our lives together,

softly cushioned with leaves of grass

from the rolling Texas hills,

or the white sands of an isolated beach

where you and I leave the world behind,

while you write in peace of the Blue

in your life, and share the air

blowing softly across our skin

as we sit side by side, me writing

letters, articles, filling minds, and

scribbling out poetry about

the love of my life, finding the dream

we both share, getting past

all the crap and down to what matters -

a fulfilling, prosperous life.

Thank God, you're the woman you are,

Babe, 'cause you love me like

no one else has or could ever do,

and God knows I love you, too.