Boot+Kitty=Poetry in motion
Toerag will live forever in our Piptalk Hall of Fame,
A struggling poet with little talent, but he can’t be blamed.
He spent his youth in wild abandon, and to tell the truth
He would have done a whole lot better if he’d married Ruth.
But alas, I just read the news of Toerag’s untimely demise,
He’s now joined other hopeless romantics up there in the skies.
All his treasures he’s left behind for others to obtain,
And perhaps to use much better than Toerag could ever claim.
A little shack in Alabama, tar papered with a single room.
Could use a ‘little’ cleaning ‘cause it’s never seen a broom.
Doesn’t have a swamp cooler, or even a ceiling fan,
The roof has gaps wide enough to accept a rotund man.
A Thesaurus and Dictionary, still looking like brand new,
Neither have been opened, both published in 1972.
Stored beneath a Sears catalogue for the current year,
With the lingerie ads the only pages referenced with dog-ears.
Aluminum cans strewn about the red clay in his front yard,
Depicting a life spent in a haze, with the drinking hard.
Plenty of cans and bottles on this Superfund potential site,
Watch your step, there’s broken glass from his drinking every night.
Bathroom fixture consisting of a door with a moon-shaped hole,
Fifty yards behind the shack where no woman would ever go.
Far too close in the summer time, too far in a winter blast,
Totally filled by Toerag before he breathed his last.
Unused talent, hardly tapped, buried within the mire
That we came to love as Toerag’s mind, before the man expired.
Partial phrases without meter or rhyme, hastily strewn about
‘Poems’ Toerag published as he tried his keyboard out.
NOT FOR SALE
The love we share for Toerag, though he was an old recluse,
Shaggy haired and clearly one who could be uncouth.
Yet, who had a heart of gold and who was counted as a friend,
By all who met and knew him before he met his end.
We love ya, Toe.