Syllabic Goose Poem

Why do you have me

sitting in this place?

It is cold outside.

It's snowing out

My toes are freezing

When will we go home?

Now you're watching.

Looking at me and

thinking who knows what.

You know I gave up

from reading your thoughts

you're wondering;

when will I get mad,

take the paper sheet

and crumple the stuff.

Yes! That yellow sheet

of paper you got

from the young waitress.

I saw you touched her

while sipping your glass

of Chardonnay wine.

Writing and winking

probably thinking,

"She is just crazy."

You have just counted

on your ten fingers;

now you're using

all of your ten toes.

Syllables he says-

"It's a poet's thing!"

Hah, licking your lips?

When he is all done

then he will want me

to read it to him

when he is in bed,

ready to snore.

See if it flows right

he will say to me.

I don't know this stuff.

We should be doing

something else that's sweet

and pleasurable.

Hotter and better.

Sweeter and nicer.

Now, he wants to write

on a paper sheet

from a young waitress

with a pretty smile.

I am sitting here;

but you know just what?

He just winked at me!

What's up? Tell me now!

Another coffee?

Refill on your wine?

Muse? Yea glad you did.

Because I almost-

Walked out of this booth!