birthdays
I’ve shot ‘em
but they still keep coming
here’s one of the little bastards now
sliding in through the crack in the window
he’s a jenny-spitting-purple day
like a jug band has to empty the jugs
before it can make music
that kind of day
and the kind when someone says
fifty-two is the new thirty-five
like someone leaves you
a strawberry with a bite out of it
and tells you
you can enjoy a sea view but
there will be one more dead fish every so often
I have the answer
lie
pretend you don’t have one
and then one day all your friends can say
I wonder what happened to old so-and-so?
and they’ll find you
like they’re going to find me
with the empty jugs
the strawberry
the pile of dead fish
and a hastily-written sign
lipstick (someone else’s) on cardboard
saying happy sodding birthday
and at least yes
you will have agreed with the happy part
I’ve shot birthdays
shot
field-dressed
and barbecued ‘em
but they keep coming
(here’s one of the little bastards now)
Gold trophy winner
Adding your comment:
your wit will always be what I love about you the most...okay, and your brilliance...and your soulful sensitive side...(I could go on? 
Good one, Scribe. Best of luck in Cinnarry's contest. 
