Ladies who Dine, Firemen who Don’t

Confused, by Phil Burns

The puddle on the floor is growing larger
The dog moves uncomfortably away
The ladies who dine
Still sip at their wine
Pretending they have something to say

The alarm on the wall sirens loudly
The poet is roused from his dreams
His brother is there
Leaning back in his chair
Nothing is quite what it seems

The fire trucks arrive in their hundreds
The firemen are not too amused
They pant fire fire
Their voices filled with desire
But their equipment lies once more unused

He sits in the car quite unmoving
He contemplates life feeling pain
He stares at the river
Which flows on forever
And prays to no god for some rain

She says that the bed looks seductive
As she slips once more out of her gown
He lies there in fear
As she cuddles near
He wonders just what will go down

And when the inevitable tsunami
Washes over his cares in a tide
He knows in his heart
That this is the start
That Canute had always denied