I have resolved not to hold out the olive branch ever again.

I have resolved not to hold out the olive branch ever again.

Miles looked a little pensive

Perched on a stool in the corner

Wearing a brightly coloured shirt

And pants

To compensate for getting older

Staring into the glass

Twirling a pen between his fingers

Like a silver dollar

The page was blank

He called himself a poet

A laureate if you listened to him talk

But he was kind of blue

He said it was a struggle to stay upright

With a Freddie Freeloader

Weighing on his conscience

From the old days when he was a free spirit

Bluetooth was everywhere

I said ‘so what if it is?’

He said ‘how many words can you squeeze

Into a jazz mix

When there is just too much noise’

‘It’s all in the mood’ I said

‘That’s what scares me

Which is never a cool look for a man

On a barstool

Trying to make a point of being an artist

When flamenco sketches

Are all the rage

On late-night radio’

‘Nobody has time for a long-winded exposition

Even a Haiku needs an explanation,

And when the timing aligns

The words can be out of kilter’

‘It is getting harder to sit here by the minute

Looking at a glass

Hoping it will find its own way

To a refill

Before the last bell tolls’

I shook my head and laughed

‘So as usual Miles,

The outcome is dependent

On the medicinal qualities

Of the bitches brew’

‘I’m not sure if you can say that anymore’

‘I’m not sure if you ever could.’