Valentines Sasta La!

lick your lips

no, I'm serious,
you've got an Irish coffee
cream mustache...
sexy, but...
wait, wait,
I've got it

*kiss*
*smack*
*slobber*
mmm...
all gone

and may I say, milady,
for the umpteenth time today
how fantastically HAWT!
you look in that cable-knit sweater
and with your own blessed
scarlet fire
awash on your tender shoulders.
it's just...it's...just...ooohhh!
HAWT!!

and yes,
I know.
later.

HAWT!!!

okay, okay

so right now
we're in this cafe,
a neat little emerald
unto its own charming self -
the "Sham o' Tanter"
(delicious!)
and you'd think it'd be
a l'il bit tacky
that they'd have little green lights
strung around their windows
with happy green cardboard
lepra-cupids
Scotch-taped onto the glass.
you'd think, but...

but I'd rather
look at that
than snow,
snow
and more snow...

I remember
when we were driving
this morning
past all those rolling hills,
you said
how the snow blanketing them
reminded you of
the hypnotic ripples
of the bed sheets
your Mum and Gram
used to air out together
on sunny laundry days.

Kleenex?

and I can still hardly believe
we saw some o' the faerie folk
dancing out of those dark woods
near that by-road we took.
man, you really gushed
over their little cobweb coats,
their foxglove gloves
and shamrock sabots,
loved the jig you did with them
(I did okay I guess),
loved their U2 tribute band
who sang "Lemon" for us
with a wee O'Carolan
strumming along on a harp,
and absolutely loved your go
at a tongue-twister-
"See the Sidhe by the Irish Sea"!
(we were nowhere near
the Irish sea
but damn, did they love that!)

but,
and this was weird,
but remember that one amorous
but seemingly sad
elderly couple
(yeah I know)
in that pub
one town back?
the wife with the dried apple map
was keening about
some sad Gaelic goddess
of eld
who drowned Ireland with her tears
after being spurned by her beau
but said island later
emerged from the depths
after breaking off of (get this)
the continent of Atlantis!
(ummm,
sure?)
and then her surly-looking husband
with the big rosacea nose
sprinkled with pustules
began to growl-sing
Ween's "The Blarney Stone"
begorra!


now
here we are

hey...
coffee toast?

here's to
the wild,
weird,
loverly
magic of
Eire

oh, and
(of course)
happy
(saint)
Valentine's Day,
luv

slainte



DB/2.2019