Personally, I like it.
I was looking around and remembered that I set the layout up in the first place. Tired of being like Kyle, I decided to change it. I enjoy it, but comments are welcome. I went to P.F. Chang's tonight as per our Christmas Eve Eve tradition, or last night since it's half after midnight. Merry Christmas Eve by the way. Anyway, so our reservation was at eight, but the table they were going to put us at was filled with some people who didn't want to leave. So they waited and talked for an hour after they had paid. By this time we were happily at another table, listening to the manager apologize. Over and over again. He then gave us three free appetizers. And free dessert. It was awesome. Due to acclaim, I've decided to post a poem here. It's called Confessions of a Chipped White Swing, and I like it even if you don't, so boo. Kudos to Ben for giving me a little advice.
Down the street from where I lived
as a boy
was the home of a haggard old man
who would sit on his porch
on those sticky summer days
when even the flies
melted to your skin
and when I walked by
he would stare at me
with those eyes
they were hard and silver and you couldn’t cut ‘em
even if you wanted to
and those eyes
looked right through me
and he would always call out the same thing
Boy, he said, if you come sit up here
give an hour of your time
I’ll tell you a story
You see, my life was a
hundred mistakes after another
and there’s a lesson in each
if you listen real good
so come sit a spell
and I’ll spin you a tale
and most days I would walk on by
but one day
just one
I called back to the old man
Tell me a story, I said, I’ll sit awhile
Spin me a tale
So I walked on up
to that chipped white swing
and sat down
and for an hour he told me a story
he spoke of love and loss and cold nights
when the moon shrinks the courage out of you
like black magic
and he paused for a moment, about to cry
and he said to me, the last thing he said
Son, I’m out of time, but I’d like to thank you
My treasure’s not gold but experience
so advice is all I have
Boy, don’t count your cards in love
Find what you want, take it, and hold it tight
and I stood up and shook his hand
and let myself out through the gate on the
old picket fence
and saw the years pass by
Until one day
when I sat down
on an old white swing
and watched as a boy walked by
and I called out to him
Boy, I said, if you come sit up here
give an hour of your time
I’ll tell you a story
You see, my life was a
hundred mistakes after another
and there’s a lesson in each
if you listen real good
so come sit a spell
and I’ll spin you a tale
I hope that
one day
he answers me
Poetically yours,
Paul Gautier
Down the street from where I lived
as a boy
was the home of a haggard old man
who would sit on his porch
on those sticky summer days
when even the flies
melted to your skin
and when I walked by
he would stare at me
with those eyes
they were hard and silver and you couldn’t cut ‘em
even if you wanted to
and those eyes
looked right through me
and he would always call out the same thing
Boy, he said, if you come sit up here
give an hour of your time
I’ll tell you a story
You see, my life was a
hundred mistakes after another
and there’s a lesson in each
if you listen real good
so come sit a spell
and I’ll spin you a tale
and most days I would walk on by
but one day
just one
I called back to the old man
Tell me a story, I said, I’ll sit awhile
Spin me a tale
So I walked on up
to that chipped white swing
and sat down
and for an hour he told me a story
he spoke of love and loss and cold nights
when the moon shrinks the courage out of you
like black magic
and he paused for a moment, about to cry
and he said to me, the last thing he said
Son, I’m out of time, but I’d like to thank you
My treasure’s not gold but experience
so advice is all I have
Boy, don’t count your cards in love
Find what you want, take it, and hold it tight
and I stood up and shook his hand
and let myself out through the gate on the
old picket fence
and saw the years pass by
Until one day
when I sat down
on an old white swing
and watched as a boy walked by
and I called out to him
Boy, I said, if you come sit up here
give an hour of your time
I’ll tell you a story
You see, my life was a
hundred mistakes after another
and there’s a lesson in each
if you listen real good
so come sit a spell
and I’ll spin you a tale
I hope that
one day
he answers me
Poetically yours,
Paul Gautier