Musings by The Poet Loriet
No Mo' Chicken
No Mo' Chicken!
Dear Mike was pre-teen
nachos and popcorn
at the local skating rink,
Polo cologne intoxication,
hint of Cherry Lifesavor
upon his breath
as we danced way too close,
and for the first time,
I was blushingly aware
of a boy's desires.
Eddie Numchucks
isn't even worth this stanza...
way too young for me, and
What was I thinking?!
Matt was homemade
Italian pasta and
Orange Crush innocence
on Homecoming night.
Steve was a strange
combination of carnival
cotton candy and
use of force,
turning me into
a night-time Ninja
borne of fear.
Jason was pot-smoke
nasty and
punk-rock angst,
satisfying some rebellious
teenage need...
a mistake.
Beau was
hors d'eouvres, champagne,
false affection, broken dreams,
and now works as an
exotic dancer...
Caution, girls...
may contain additives,
preservatives and impurities.
Jim was...
I never could concentrate
on what Jim ate.
He had these very thin
fish lips,
and when I wasn't
visualizing him eating worms,
I wondered how I could
manage to kiss him.
Adam was five-star classy,
seafood dinners at Jonah's,
Tollhouse cookies baked together,
sparkling grape juice on Prom night,
pink horses, slow-dancing to Chicago,
tall~dark~handsome,
looked great in a soldier's uniform
(Am I rambling?),
and my first true love.
~Sigh~
Ron was late smoky nights
playing cards and drinking
"alky-hol", a failed safety net
attempt to get me over
a broken heart
with his yellow Texan roses,
who told me way too soon,
"I could marry a girl like you."
He was full of lies and misdemeanors.
Bob was...What about Bob?
Chili dawgs, horseradish,
Jalapeno, Italian sausage,
flying fish, blue snocone fun
hidden under the most
beautiful gray-green eyes
and baby-soft beard.
Howie was raw egg
truth and dare milkshakes...
I dare you to kick me out,
lifeguard, blow your whistle...
sparkle of mischief, hard liquor,
and trouble, keeping my days
of working at the pool
under the 110-degree sun
chock-full of cool spontaneity.
Brian was
blonde, tan, no shirt,
fast sports car, and...
Well, hell, Brian and I
never ate!
Troy was...
bland, no seasoning,
just plain boring, and
the longest date in history~
Who cares what he ate?
Neal was a vegetarian
of some sort,
wouldn't eat anything
that ate anything else,
Floridian Mahi-Mahi and
reggae bands, moonlight
walks along white sand...
strange quirky...
but awesomely cute buns!
I can't even begin to
talk about Brooke.
The heartburn he left
is still all-too-real...
They were all a
Smorgasboard of life experiences,
some not worth the seven-dollar
all-you-can-eat admission price,
while others were like a Chinese
take-out meal, never
filling me up.
Some made me queasy,
while others whet my appetite,
made me want to linger
for dessert and coffee.
They completed me,
right down to the
obligatory
after-dinner mint.
They were all
delicious, nutritious...
tastes like chicken
(as everything
eventually does).
No matter what happened,
I tried to always leave
with a balloon of memories
tied to my wrist,
and a few stolen
crayons in my purse.
~Burp~
Excuse me!
I'm full now,
couldn't possibly eat
another bite...
No mo' chicken!
Lori Beal
Dear Mike was pre-teen
nachos and popcorn
at the local skating rink,
Polo cologne intoxication,
hint of Cherry Lifesavor
upon his breath
as we danced way too close,
and for the first time,
I was blushingly aware
of a boy's desires.
Eddie Numchucks
isn't even worth this stanza...
way too young for me, and
What was I thinking?!
Matt was homemade
Italian pasta and
Orange Crush innocence
on Homecoming night.
Steve was a strange
combination of carnival
cotton candy and
use of force,
turning me into
a night-time Ninja
borne of fear.
Jason was pot-smoke
nasty and
punk-rock angst,
satisfying some rebellious
teenage need...
a mistake.
Beau was
hors d'eouvres, champagne,
false affection, broken dreams,
and now works as an
exotic dancer...
Caution, girls...
may contain additives,
preservatives and impurities.
Jim was...
I never could concentrate
on what Jim ate.
He had these very thin
fish lips,
and when I wasn't
visualizing him eating worms,
I wondered how I could
manage to kiss him.
Adam was five-star classy,
seafood dinners at Jonah's,
Tollhouse cookies baked together,
sparkling grape juice on Prom night,
pink horses, slow-dancing to Chicago,
tall~dark~handsome,
looked great in a soldier's uniform
(Am I rambling?),
and my first true love.
~Sigh~
Ron was late smoky nights
playing cards and drinking
"alky-hol", a failed safety net
attempt to get me over
a broken heart
with his yellow Texan roses,
who told me way too soon,
"I could marry a girl like you."
He was full of lies and misdemeanors.
Bob was...What about Bob?
Chili dawgs, horseradish,
Jalapeno, Italian sausage,
flying fish, blue snocone fun
hidden under the most
beautiful gray-green eyes
and baby-soft beard.
Howie was raw egg
truth and dare milkshakes...
I dare you to kick me out,
lifeguard, blow your whistle...
sparkle of mischief, hard liquor,
and trouble, keeping my days
of working at the pool
under the 110-degree sun
chock-full of cool spontaneity.
Brian was
blonde, tan, no shirt,
fast sports car, and...
Well, hell, Brian and I
never ate!
Troy was...
bland, no seasoning,
just plain boring, and
the longest date in history~
Who cares what he ate?
Neal was a vegetarian
of some sort,
wouldn't eat anything
that ate anything else,
Floridian Mahi-Mahi and
reggae bands, moonlight
walks along white sand...
strange quirky...
but awesomely cute buns!
I can't even begin to
talk about Brooke.
The heartburn he left
is still all-too-real...
They were all a
Smorgasboard of life experiences,
some not worth the seven-dollar
all-you-can-eat admission price,
while others were like a Chinese
take-out meal, never
filling me up.
Some made me queasy,
while others whet my appetite,
made me want to linger
for dessert and coffee.
They completed me,
right down to the
obligatory
after-dinner mint.
They were all
delicious, nutritious...
tastes like chicken
(as everything
eventually does).
No matter what happened,
I tried to always leave
with a balloon of memories
tied to my wrist,
and a few stolen
crayons in my purse.
~Burp~
Excuse me!
I'm full now,
couldn't possibly eat
another bite...
No mo' chicken!
Lori Beal
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No Mo` Chicken
No Mo` Chicken
