Why I'M Still Single Poem by Alexander Beebe

My baby and I are going out tonight she wants to blow a little steam.
Cowboy shirt is starched so nicely, wrangler jeans with laser seams.
I love this woman; we plan to marry if I get my head on strait.
I better get my act together; the ice is thin, it just might break

Our favorite dance hall where we met several years ago,
a time recalled where she was fancied with my charm and glow.
The charm has faded, it’s all my fault, I took for granted what she meant.
The spit cup that she thought was whisky didn’t help me- not a bit.

I wrap one arm around her waist- when I thought her stomach settled,
twirled her all around the floor hoping to impress her.
The normal glow upon her face was starting to expire.
The Copenhagen that she drank came rushing back to bight her.

Perspiration on her face is starting to run down.
It grabs mascara round her eyes and turns the river brown.
Alice Cooper could compare to the site I see.
I dare not tell her how she looks; it would be the end of me.

The spill she made upon the floor caused a slippery mess;
the Gucci heels upon her feet struggled with the test.
I reached to grab her much too late to the floor she went;
I hoped the floor was somewhat softer landing in the spit.

The ice that I was walking on when this night first started,
broke up several hours ago-but I didn’t know it.
The man she now is clinging too was a perfect stranger;
I grin real softly as I see a Skoal ring on his Wranglers.