There's a hot tub full of three years of what the wind blows
Or the rain leaves behind. No one quite knows
What that damp old thing is coated in.
What grows still in unkempt idleness once bubbled with sin.
So too idle rests a dust-bearded beer sign,
Pilfered from a college bar for its neon light
Under which parties once roamed, mindless and wild.
Now it sits in the attic, out of use, out of style
On top of the pool table, riddled with scratches.
Memories of playing there come in jerks and snatches,
Half-passed out with drunkenness, trying trick shots on dares.
I can hardly recall all the girls I had there.
Here lie the bachelor's artifacts, rusting,
Given up, one can hope, for someone worth trusting.
This is awesome.
ReplyDeleteWhy thank you. You're very kind.
ReplyDeleteThe inspiration for this was quite literal and straightforward. I worked a job at a house with a hot tub out back filled with leaves. The guy has two young kid and the hot tub had a covering of a damp-looking coating of indeterminate composition and origin.