A man with a mustache
(all good stories have a man with a mustache)
who loved to fish,
always had a smile on his face.
He’d come into my work,
with his mustache
and his deep low voice,
and tell me great fishing stories.
He’d give me advice,
tricks of the trade,
tips,
on fishing.
I think he gave me a few of his ‘secret spots’
I don’t even fish.
He is truly a kind man,
but,
let this be said,
I am afraid my perspective on the man might be temporarily compromised.
Let me explain.
Of course the man with the mustache,
and the smile,
with the deep voice,
and the fishing stories,
made us fudge for Christmas.
Of course he did.
I enjoyed his fudge greatly and ate much of the brick he had left for us.
To only say that I enjoyed the fudge greatly,
would be a shame here.
Because there are some moments in life-
Some experiences with food,
Some experiences during sex
Some moments in the middle of a fight
Some sunsets
Some sunrises
Some songs,
they remind me about how bad I want to stay alive;
to continue to have moments like these ones.
This fudge was so good,
it was an experience.
Fudge is an art.
truly,
it is!
Okay,
maybe it's more of a science.
I’m not sure,
I’ve always been the consumer
never the creator.
But I imagine the creation of this fudge took something like
Alchemy to make.
The combination of the spirit and the science.
He said it was a special family recipe from the coast.
Of course it was.
So when I write a whole poem
blowing smoke up his ass
about his fudge
His mustache
His fishing stories
His fudge
His kind nature
His fudge
It means something,
BUT,
I need you to know
why I am not currently trusting of my own judgment towards the man
It’s because,
I just had more
of his
fudge.
It was national chocolate day the other day
and my boss had hinted to him that we wanted more fudge,
He drove home,
grabbed the last of his fudge,
and brought it to us.
Of course he did.
He sounds like the kindest man in the world, doesn’t he??!
A real life Santa!
A saint!
A hero among heroes!
His fudge (and him)
deserve trumpets!
His fudge (and him)
Deserve virgins!
You see,
I just ate some.
My fingertips are still coated with the masterpiece.
Sure,
It’s getting on my laptop as I type,
So what?
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