Introduction

Why God... Why does it happen to me?

The Lost Chance

It took me three weeks to build up the steam.
To speak to the woman I see in my dreams.
She's beautiful, humorous, smart, caring.
And every day I catch myself staring.

I walked up to her with confidence high.
I just want to seem like a good kinda guy.
I introduced myself, kissed her hand.
Hoping to be her favorite man.

Things were going well, never been better.
I complimented her eyes and her thick sheep wool sweater.
Right then and there, though, I slipped into trouble.
I sniffed in. I sniffed out. I blew a snot bubble.

It started out small like a lump of thick goo.
Then it grew quickly with each breath I drew.
She stared at it intently then started to gasp.
With fear in her eyes she stood in its path.

I froze, confused, locked still in my place.
If I popped it, it just might blow up in her face.
So I turned and threw out a fake "achooo!"
And from my nose the snot bubble flew.

It turned left. It turned right. It hit an old man.
He gave me a look, turned tail and ran.
I collected my thoughts and what I had said.
But it was too late my lady had fled.

So from my nostril this slimy delight,
Ruined the very best chance of my life.
So instead of dating the woman to wed,
I'm wishing myself clinically dead.

So next time when you're with your Betty Rubble,
Fellas beware---Beware the snot bubble.

Copyright; James Tamarac
Email: phinterman@hotmail.com