That screen in front of me, <br />familiar and yet so secretive, <br />a new surprise for me each day <br />and lonely evenings no longer stir, <br />or pull the strings that do support <br />an aching heart, this thanks to you, <br />who found your man, the local gym <br />is not for me, but for the two of you, <br />where you can sweat and reek, <br />where sneakers tell the story <br />of who you may or may not be. <br /> <br />it is the scent of inner rot, <br />perhaps this life was meant to be <br />unfair and strangely reminiscent <br />of déjà-vu in a past life of mine, <br />you called me a recliner pumpkin <br />who sits all night and guzzles beer, <br />God is my witness, He would too <br />be partial to my Heineken, the Dutch <br />do know the art of brewing amber fluid. <br />Your doctor made the observation <br />to you and me that top ingredients <br />within the beer bear force of life; <br />all vitamins are thus obtained. <br /> <br />Next to my keyboard to my right <br />sits patiently that little mouse, <br />the table on my left supports <br />a bucket, filled with ice and bottles <br />of juice of barley, to my health, <br />so stay away, I do not need you <br />have found a cyber-bride of beauty <br />and brains as well as lovely lips, <br />good-bye to sixpacks of the stomach <br />obliques and deltoid muscles yet, <br />our interests differ, let us smile <br />and live our lives to please ourselves.<br /><br />Herbert Nehrlich<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/from-my-attic-ix/
