Don’t Have One, Have Fun
 by John Patrick Robbins

 

 

To play any game one must understand it’s all a game to begin with.

I was all too familiar with the asylum better known as marriage .

Now I was a lunatic set free to do as I pleased .

I drank like a fish and seldom cared if I saw tomorrow .
I met a few that shared more than my company along the way.

“I know you have more than me, you’re such a rat “.

A friend said to me.

“Sweetheart just cause I don’t bare my teeth and howl doesn’t mean I am not a wolf all the same”.

“Yeah and that’s why I never take you serious cause you have far too many secrets “.

I mixed us both another cocktail she laughed looking at me behind the bar .

It was a game like any other.
People with time bare their flaws far more than their egos.

“I bet you have a shit ton of numbers and other things in that phone “.

Pamela was far from a fool but always a good time but she read me like a book.

And I simply laughed and played along.

“My dear whatever are you trying to say? …that I am some sort of male whore “?

“No I believe a whore charges, you perv “.

“Maybe I should change occupations, and charge for my services care to be my first client”?

Just then my phone went off .

“Looks like someone is in need more than me there American gigolo “.

I turned the the phone to silent .

“Oh that’s just a friend calling sweetheart probably just wants to talk.”

“At three in the morning “?

“Well hey some people like to get an early start “.

“Yeah or an early morning fling “.

“Sweetheart you don’t know that was a woman “.

“Well what was this early rising friends name “.

“Sandy” .

Pamela busted up laughing .

“Yeah sounds very masculine there Frankie “.

“Well darlin you know how these modern kids are, With there  tight leg jeans and hipster ways,
I mean Sandy is okay well she probably just wants to have some fun”.

“Jesus Christ Frank!, What are you trying to set a record or something”?

“I believe it’s called having a good time and living my dear, And besides I have so much love to give “.

“You’re going to catch something if you don’t watch it “.

“Well I usually catch a buzz but I’m always on the lookout for a good time”.

“You need to settle down stop drinking and clean up your act “.

We both looked at one another for a second.

And busted up laughing on that one.

Pamela was no different than me —she had a few that believed they were something more.

They probably desired what would never be.

She had stuck her head in the flames once.

Saw hell for what it was and rather bask in the pleasures of a no strings simple fling instead .

Life was chaos and the storms were many.
That’s why I sought any port in the storm that preferably had a fully stocked bar and nice warm bed.

We enjoyed the night and you can guess the rest .

And in the morning as bourbon met coffee and the tinge of a hangover stung my thoughts .

I checked my phone and called Sandy .

“Sweetheart I lost my phone sorry I didn’t reply “.

Never settle for what you believe is expected.
Live as much as you can and die when you absolutely have to.

I may not have howled at the moon .
But I was a wolf like any other .
Always on the hunt.

Cheers.

 

©2018 John Patrick Robbins

 

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John Patrick Robbins Is often referred to as a outlaw poet. Whose work is a glimpse into life’s darker side and often barroom based. His work has been published with Inbetween Hangover , The Red Fez , Spill The Words , Ramingos Porch , Your One Phone Call , The Outlaw Poetry Network , Horror Sleaze Trash. He is also the editor of The Rye Whiskey Review and Under The Bleachers. He also has a new E book entitled “Smoking At The Gas Pumps” published by Soma publishing. His work is always a hundred percent unfiltered.

 

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