Alan

Alan                        by Elyse Russo                 copyright 2015

I met Alan at a park,

It was early summer,

His timing was great

Since he was a drummer.

He sang country western,

Songs of heartbreak and pain,

With long dark hair,

In a pony tail mane.

Like a golden retriever,

A big nose and brown eyes,

He looked much sweeter,

Than all the other guys.

We dated for three months,

I’d go to watch him play,

And that was real fun,

In a masochistic sort of way.

'Cause he played in a dive,

I sat all alone,

And he’d only talk to me,

Through his public microphone.

I don’t do the two step,

Or even the three,

And some very strange men,

Would ask to dance with me.

There was another problem,

Alan was quite self-involved,

And every conversation,

About him would revolve.

He’d admit real freely,

And for hours he’d complain,

About his self-absorption,

And emotional pain.

One night at the dive,

While not drinking beer,

I had much more fun,

With a prize baby steer.

He was outside alone,

A big raffle prize,

And I told him my story,

While I gazed in his eyes.

He didn’t say much

But if he were a cow,

He’d say moooove far away

From this guy,

And right now,

So I ended with Alan,

But I still miss the steer

Although he was bovine,

He sure was sincere.