P – J = </3

You are so mock-heroic

In your cold-bullet epic.

Everything called “tragic”

Is also known as “Patrick”.

And I’ve got the blues; magic,

Coloured tears so pelagic.

##

When you left me for him, sir,

Did you know you became her?

Your Little Blue Jean a blur

And I thought this would occur.

Little Blue Jean, “Saboteur”;

Or some other little slur.

###

Patrick and Jean, at once gone

Like bullets from hearts withdrawn.

Two melted like Nazi Braun—

Melted, would you guess? Not pawned.

We took what we could at dawn;

Chased the dragon, burned the swan.

#

Desire, like grief, can tie one—

Undone—in the lace homespun.

And I’m running out—bank run

Me a bankroll, would you, hon’?

I have no language—no gun—

To fire at you my last stun.