Back in the Doghouse

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I’m in the doghouse again.

I have wounded my best friend.

I will have to be charming

to hold her hand again.

Maybe some flowers or money,

whatever it takes to get back my honey.

Life is too short, I fear:

come back to me, my dear.

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Do You Love Yourself?

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The weight loss instructor looked straight at me in the group of about nine big fat women. “Stephen do you love yourself?”

They were all waiting for a goofy reply.  I looked up with sadness in my eyes and said I did love myself, sometimes late at night.  Then I rolled my eyes and looked guilty.  This got a good laugh. We lost no weight Easter week.

I Love Myself

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Do not say I love you unless you mean it.  This phrase can be an evil tool used to get control of your mind, body, and money.  Now that my grandmothers are gone and since I have no kids, when anybody else says it, it just doesn’t feel genuine.  That’s why when I see a mirror, I sometimes say, I love you.  I know that’s real.

A Toast to Real Love

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I choke up when it comes time to give the toast.  I would like to give a toast since it is my birthday.  I turn to catch her eye and raise my glass.

Here’s to Jo.  She keeps me going.  She has stayed two years with a man who had it easy and now has it hard.

I could not have made it without her presence.  She can always stay.

Wild Irish Rose

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She is Irish, a beauty with red hair.  I say, “You are the prettiest flower in this garden,” as I look around the clinic with 20 more women milling about.

“Thank you, that was nice.”

Last week she told me that she was going through a nasty separation.  I think she might be rich. I have a girlfriend, but I always keep my options open.  I am not the man I once was, but I am as good once as I ever was.

My Only Friend, The End

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In April I will turn 60. Hell, I am still waiting for puberty to wrap up. I have loved–it was mostly for animals–humans and dogs.  When I was younger I smelled fresher, but now PU.

If my health insurance gets canceled that’s it.  I am going to take 40 Ambien, sixteen shots of Tequila, eat 1 lb of bad sushi, then eat two whole Dominos large pizzas with extra cheese and four toppings.  If that doesn’t kill me nothing will. I just hope I don’t wake up from that.

Ode to My Brother’s Retirement

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Bob, your job is done.

Time to relax, have some fun!

 

Try to be young, young at heart.

Try to forget: you are an old fart.

 

The bills will be due.

The tax man is lurking.

No worries–Marybeth is still working

 

Why work? What’s the point?

If it was me, I would smoke a joint.

 

Try to relax!

You and wifey can talk…

until she says, Bob please take a long walk.

 

Don’t get old, heavens above!

Stay the same:

The man we all love.