My Romantic Life, A Modern Day Noah’s Ark: I Am Noah Drunk

* WADDUP NOAH? *BEEELCH* *BURP* *HICCUP!* IM TRYING TO GET TORE UP FROM THE FLOOR UP LIKE YOU DID DAWWWWG! (YOU FEELZ ME SON?)

* Dedicated to RB(3) – and no…I AINT TALKING BOUT NO RUNNING BACK  - TRUST ME!

---------------/My Romantic Life, A Modern Day Noah’s Ark: I Am Noah Drunk

I don’t know where to begin or how to engage

this new world, of romance, of your charm, reclining backwards

on my elbows staring at the sky in a half dazed stupor.

My former dreams are like the dampened mud, a macabre reminder

of strewn huts and heathen families long since washed away,

arid dreams of dust never to return,

because youre 18 and Im 32, a disproportionality that can only be

judged contemptuously wicked.

Before we met I grew fond of adhering to these ideals

now buried beneath the sea, you see I envisioned you axe to bark,

shiny blade to rooted trunk, a construction of boards, slabs, slats

and gopher wood shaped so as to float (on top of all adversity). I figured

you’d be about my height, witty, godly, comely and shapely

sturdy enough to withstand the raining barrage, my passion torrential

like 40 days and nights of cataclysmic down pouring of eagerness -

at first sight we would be mutually smitten. When I took one glance I knew

a storm was coming, peals of thunder piercing ears,

my heart in a tailspin, arms trembling beneath a foreboding black cloud

your face so young, startling like bright lightning across the sky.

Yet I gave myself false comfort boarding my every thought in two pairs

marrying every pessimistic notion with one positive:

she cant be more than 21, but maybe is a really young 23,

she said she’s still in school, but maybe its grad school – two giraffes,

two gazelles,

two burly boars now snorting. 

But now what? The waters of time have receded and mountaintops

of a conscience torn peaks through, the dove of self confidence

that once comforted me wont return,

as she already knows too much. (Her family would go apoplectic)

And presently, there are not many people

to talk to, excuses I made, justifications I postulated betray me

like floating dead bodies eyes open but faces too pallid;

Stumbling from the ark of false hope I made, into a vineyard of fantasy

retreating…conversing with my fears tensely.

What does it matter? I would probably be a bad husband

a few years ago my roommates caught me being impure, and

Im broke nearly destitute from squandering all my money.

Wine, sweet deluding fruit borne of vines, lies

but they are lies Im all too willing to hear.

All will be copacetic, if I just keep drinking

my life away.   

----------------------/Genesis 9:20-27

And Noah began to be an husbandman, and he planted a vineyard: And he drank of the wine, and was drunken; and he was uncovered within his tent. And Ham, the father of Canaan, saw the nakedness of his father, and told his two brethren without. And Shem and Japheth took a garment, and laid it upon both their shoulders, and went backward, and covered the nakedness of their father; and their faces were backward, and they saw not their father's nakedness. And Noah awoke from his wine, and knew what his younger son had done unto him. And he said, Cursed be Canaan; a servant of servants shall he be unto his brethren. And he said, Blessed be the Lord God of Shem; and Canaan shall be his servant. God shall enlarge Japheth, and he shall dwell in the tents of Shem; and Canaan shall be his servant.