"Put A Towel Over It and Move On!" A poem by Jess Coffman

Hello! I just wrote this poem right now! My lovely boyfriend made me a delicious jalapeno-grapefruit-cilantro margarita which has caused me to be a little bit tipsy and pretty happy right now. Somewhere within watching him chop veggies for soup and listening to his Blues Traveler Spotify channel, I got inspired to write. This poem is a bit fictitious, because instead of being in my kitchen, I imagined requesting the listening ear of a stranger at a local bar. The title of this song, is a direct quote from Billy after he saw me come downstairs with a towel to cover the kitchen bar stool-like chair. I feel somewhat neurotic when it comes to ripped upholstery, I don't like to sit on it. I know it is crazy, but it comes from a very uncomfortable story of the first and only time that I went to fully nude strip club in the San Fernando Valley. The place was called Gotham City and so skeezy. That is a long ago story, but an important one only because it explains my bizarre issues with seating sometimes. I had to put the towel down on our ripped chair, before I could start writing this. I tried to do it discretely, but he caught me and totally called me out :)  I hope you like it!

Put a Towel Over It and Move On

I'm feeling a little tipsy-dipsy,

How's about a drink?

My life is a little bit flipsy.

A drink and a listen?

What do you think?

I'm feeling a little unproductive,

I'm in between jobs. 

Relaxing all day was seductive,

A life for the lucky?

A life for slobs?

I'd rather be bossing people around,

I'm mostly Type A.

I don't bring people down.

I like to empower

In a nice way.

It's great that my boyfriend is so Type B,

We balance out well.

He withholds me from insanity,

I keep him on his toes.

He rings my bell.

I've only been out of work two whole nights,

But I feel so glum.

A perfect love is almost enough,

But I have a purpose,

And I must succumb.

I'm sorry that I am such an asshole,

Cause now I must go.

You've helped me to remember my goal

For a well-balanced life.

So here's some dough.

Buy yourself another whisky sour,

You deserve a treat.

I'm off to write the song of this hour,

A song of life balance,

Of struggle so sweet. 

I hope you 'll discover your life's work,

And your life's love too.

I'll write of your eyes and playful smirk.

I won't forget your help.

Goodbye,

Thank-you.