Monica, a Birthday Girl

A young lady
in a used 96 Saturn
you got for your 18th birthday.
Yes ma'am I do need company.
If you think
the company should be you,
drive to Biloxi,
see the little guy
in a faded Sea Dogs hat.

That's how I met my Cajun Queen.
Half Italian, I choose to forget that.
It ain't a love tale set to rhyme,
that makes hearts go pitter-patter.
Just our life, no more no less.
I was lonely and divorced,
holding onto the end
of a frayed rope.

This year, again far away,
you spent your birthday,
a storm refugee.
Impending disaster,
and a replacement for
your Saturn drove you
from our beloved flooding city.
Hell of a birthday gift.