Fighting Irish Thomas

The following poem is from my Notre Dame college days, written about my first love. I had to revisit it for a term paper I'm doing for teacher certification (see The O'Toole Papers) and of course it brought the pain (and joy!) right back. Sue, if a search engine somehow hooks you up to this, I wish you once again, "The Greatest." –Tom

It was a day or two or so ago
Accompanied only by my radio
When I heard those songs so strong and sad
About a kind of love I too once had
And I remembered those days when love looked true
Just Sue and me and me and Sue
Til there seemed one thing left that I should do
I wrote a song of love of you

You weren't that cute; I don't know why
But somehow you sure caught my eye
Your smile perhaps, and now that I think
You also had one hell of a wink
You talked and laughed and played the game
So well I made damn sure I knew your name
And when you left, I followed you
"Hey; wait a second! Wait for me ... Sue."

You were a girl who did strange things
Wore bongs for bracelets, beer tabs for rings
You partied late and long and often
Were always smokin', and always coughin'
But many a moment your mood would mellow
And then it was magic to be your fellow
With the sky our roof and the grass our floor
I promised you all this and more

I'd ruin it too with worn out words
Like proverbs from out the mouths of nerds
For when you kissed me, I could not tell
My rhetoric was as trite as hell
For when you kissed me, I could not see
I'd lose sight of all but Sue and me
For when I held you then so close
I could forget; I could -- almost

For I woke up one misbegotten dawn
Awoke to find my Sue was gone
To find she wasn't my Sue at all
Sue couldn't fit in a space so small
I wanted her (some day) to be my wife
But I was just a long day in her short life
Note said she left me for no other man
She left me just "'cause I still can"

In the end, God was the only guy
With the guts to show my dream a lie
Sue was too young to look ahead that far
Still, when I look up and see that star
I'll ask, when you grow up my friend
Come back and be my girl again
Til then, my Sue is just a song
And all who remember will sing along

Tom

Labels: Poetry