This is one of those poems that makes me go “Damn, I wish I could write like that” by our favourite Beat Generation survivor A.D. Winans…
LETTING GO
You were Harpo Marx without a harp
You were Sally Rand without your burlesque fan
You were a slow funeral train
Making its way down the track
Looking for the last hunchback
You were Clint Eastwood out to make your day
With a loaded gun aimed at my groin
But baby I no longer can do the dance
Not even to get into your pants
I don't want a ride on your rowboat
To the Bermuda triangle
Or to sit in the back set of your leaky canoe
Listening to you play love songs on your kazoo
And why do you insist on checking out of the motel
When we haven't yet checked in
You have the desk clerk confused
And I'm beginning to lose interest in the muse
Not since I ran the 440 in high school
Have I been this out of breath
The range master has issued me a summons
To report to the firing range
He wants to remove the bulls-eye from my heart
You'll have to find someone else for target practice
• A.D. Winans
