The Unexpected Optimist.

A real rough sketch but lets call it a 'first draft'. Another early morning poem.

The Unexpected Optimist.

Five-thirty-nine,

Half awake in Katy's room,

Early sound of lazy metallic

Dawn from the avenue outside,

Underwear and aerosol cans,

Strewn about the place,

Drunk-sick regret laying

In tailored trousers alone

On her island bed.

Last night invisible kisses,

Struck her on the cheek,

My lustful teenage wishes,

And how long will it be, a week?

Or a day or a year?

Before the unexpected optimist

Wants me - only me here.

R.A.B, 2011.

Author's Note

Beats are all over the place. Sorry.