Dear Mr. McAtee,
I see now the err of my ways
Waves lap a shore yonder and
It has brought me to a realization:
That a demoness can haunt me
To dying days in unreal ways
Taunting me, taking me by the ankles
And shaking me free of my shackles.
Where were you in years past, Mr McAtee
To see unconditionally my surrender?
Do you laugh now at it all?
Do your eyes light up at the notion
That I’ve imbibed one too many
Heavy drinks from love’s potion?
There is a world out there for the taking
And it’s taking me under, utterly.
Open doors beg me to enter my
Very own Lady Chatterley.
Perhaps I dream too big in this
Too small town.
A king uncrowned in a landscape
Nigh impossible to escape.
I’ll set my sights lower as I
Walk down streets named after dead presidents