Pin It

Poem: Old Don Juan 

By the time we reached you on the porch,
you were already three sheets to the wind
with an umbrella pitched in your drink.
You were stark naked, of course,
with your starboard side
reflecting the diffused rays of the sun
through the rattan screen.
It formed a small checker pattern
across your Adam’s apple among
other things.
Your wayward folds and
bemused liver spots
failed to honor the wife
you’ve had for over thirty years.
My mother for one
will never sleep normal again
after seeing your onion form.
It horrifies me to think
she spent her Social Security check
vacationing in the shadow of your fleshy paunch.
You bear no resemblance to the man
she once held close,
my dear father.
Now, please come inside
to finish washing the dishes.

Speaking of...

  • A poem by Brendan Blowers.

Comments

Subscribe to this thread:

Add a comment

Readers also liked…

Hudson Valley Events

submit event

The Joy in Detail: The Incised Paintings of Elayne Seaman, a Retrospective

Feb. 23-March 16 — The exhibition is comprised of a selection of Seaman’s paintings created on...

North East Watercolor Society Members’ 2017 Show

Mondays-Fridays. Continues through March 22 — Watercolors are displayed by artist members of this premiere watercolor organization....

View all of today's events

Latest in Poetry

More by Brendan Blowers

Hudson Valley Tweets