Guest Blogger: D.

I'm about to do something I've never done on this blog before. Allow someone else to guest blog.

Bee went to Starbucks last night to get some work done per Cee's recommendation (as you know, Cee is a man magnet. She always meets men at Starbucks and said that Bee should go there and get some work done. "Tell all my cuties I said hello!" Cee told Bee as she walked out.)

So Bee went, dressed in sweats and a baseball cap (not a look that Cee would have recommended, by the way). But Bee decided she wanted to get work done and didn't want the attention of others.

Within an hour, here comes a guy that Bee and I always see in the neighborhood but never recognize by name. We never went to that barbecue he invited us to three years ago, but we have seen him about a dozen times since.

And wouldn't you know, he remembered Bee. He sat down at her table to chat her up and to see what she was working on (she was updating this site, my paws were sore). Intrigued, he asked to be a guest blogger. Bee handed him her computer, and he typed a 3 PAGE ENTRY for what would be Sunday's post.

Bee edited it down to just include his best parts--his poetry. Yup, he wrote poems.

D. believed poetry would be the best way to show his "sensitive side" (and the best way to convince Bee to have breakfast with him the next day). So he wrote three:

Roses are red violets are blue
Some poems rhyme
This one doesn’t

(Dude, REALLY?!? Gimmie back my computer! I'm not impressed!)

He took another stab at it.

"You know how frail and wanton thrillfull comes death in a strange hour?
Unannounced and un prepared for like a scaring overfriendly guest you’ve brought to bed?
Well, death makes angles of us all and gives us wings where we had shoulders smooth as ravens claws
No more money no more fancy dress this other kingdom is by far the best – until it’s other jaw reveals incest and a savage beating to a vegtable lau. I will not go, I prefer the feast of friends to that of the giant fowl."


(Hmm,...sounds familiar...)

Jim Morrison

(Ah! But what about your OWN words?)

Finally...

"God's poem to Bee.

Have you granted me forgiveness yet?
Has the pain at all subsided?
Has Mother Mercy been kind to your heart?
Has Father Time provided?

B., I know there’s no magic elixir
But in my own private religion I have a belief.
Together we can finish painting this picture
Together we can paint sunrise over grief"

D.

Well. 

Bee took him up on the breakfast invitation. The next day,  they shared coffee and bagels, but sadly no rhyming verse.  Perhaps one day, Bee and I will actually make it to his apartment for a summer barbecue after all.