Monday sonnet, [written] three days early.

[fr_defenestrato]

I am a fool. With time so short I ought
To write a brilliant novel or compose
A string quartet. Instead, I shop. I bought
A Perry Ellis belt, six pairs of hose...
Three beers, and a tequila. And you sit,
A world away, the best and brightest thing
To happen in my life, but now commit-
ted fully to another. Can I bring
Myself to mourn? I'm not sure I know how,
Perhaps because I mourn my life partout
And this loss is particulière. And now,
In lieu of calling you mon petit choux,
The most that I can do is wish you well,
And have another beer, to ward off hell.

[Sitting in the Green Lantern feeling mopey last Friday night, I wrote this to maestro_live in a cell phone text message. This is a slightly revised version in that by the time I got to the end I was tipsy enough not to realize it was only 13 lines and I had left one verse unrhymed. Oops.]