Sin, gin and skin.

(April is poetry month. New poetry number twenty-eight.)

Sin, gin and skin.

The bar poet, the bar storyteller told stories to the desperate people.

He told them, we will have rainy days and the rain will stop. The sun will return.

Bad days, become fewer bad days. One day, we will find what we need.

Sin, gin and skin. Lowest of men will know.

We will know madness; we will know anger and we want to give-up.

Once I held a 30-30 in my hands and the God of life and death send an angel to stop me.

The young folks would ask the dark poet. Are you alright and

he would tell them. I have enough money to buy drinks at Happy Hour.

I have the Austin music and the college kids. Leave me be.

I can write and seek some peace in my messy world.

Pretty poet asked him. Do you want love again?

He held her hand and he told her. Sin, gin and skin.

Old poet once sought and now.

He needs the sea, the Irish whiskey and the good jazz.

Sin, gin and skin. A young man goal.

One day you will learn. Love demands a lot.

You must give everything and be fearless.

Pretty poet, sometimes we can learn heartbreak and

we cannot heal. We do not want to heal or forget.

I would tell you dear poet. Be kind, be gentle, and pay attention.

Love is dancing on a needle.

John