Tonight's Poet Corner: Derelict, Tuxedo Man
Derelict, Tuxedo Man
by Belinda Roddie
He practically lives in the shoddy jacket.
His belly, once hanging past his leather belt,
is now shriveled and lifeless, without so much as a
scrawny steak on a stick for him. He steals
graham crackers from the closest gas station,
but he can never grab the marshmallows,
and besides, if he heats those up, the sugar
stains his vest something awful.
You're a derelict, tuxedo man.
The rose in your lapel
is three years left of romantic.
Its petals wilted long ago.
And so did your smile.
by Belinda Roddie
He practically lives in the shoddy jacket.
His belly, once hanging past his leather belt,
is now shriveled and lifeless, without so much as a
scrawny steak on a stick for him. He steals
graham crackers from the closest gas station,
but he can never grab the marshmallows,
and besides, if he heats those up, the sugar
stains his vest something awful.
You're a derelict, tuxedo man.
The rose in your lapel
is three years left of romantic.
Its petals wilted long ago.
And so did your smile.
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