The Dream

by Hal O'Leary

I'm standing here along the shore,
With pleasant breeze, the sea aroar,
The sky is dark with stars galore,
The moon is one you can't ignore,
And were you looking for amor
As I am, there is nothing more
That any lover could wish for.
Oh, how I wish I might explore
The bliss of love to my heart's core.
May love become an open door.
Oh, Eros, I so need to score.
You God of Love, I do implore,
Please send me someone to adore,
Someone to love in close rapport.
My raison d'etre, I beg restore.
I'll swear I'm yours forever more.

And suddenly, EVA GABOR.
The persperation 'gins to pour
Profusely from my every pore.
A gushing, rushing wild uproar,
Engaging, raging mad furor.
Like damsels from the days of yore,
A vision with no metaphor.

But here, I wake up with a snore,
And everything is as before.
'Tis not the Hotel Commadore,
But just a flop house I deplore.
Complete with odors I abhor,
And rather than a humidor,
My mouth tastes like a cuspidor,
And by the bed, the clothes we wore
Are scattered round about the floor,
With beer cans, maybe three or four.
Without a doubt, I'm very poor,
But with my lot, I'm never sore,
For there beside me, Eleanor,
My ever lovin' faithful whore.
Soon she'll awake and to be sure,
She'll want a third or fourth encore,
And that for me will be a chore,
For morning sex is just a bore.
And after that, it's one more or,
We dress and hit the corridor.


Hal O'Leary is an eighty-five year old veteran of WWII. He is the retired founder and artistic director of Oglebay Instituite's Towngate Theatre in Wheeling, WV. He was most recently inducted into the Wheeling Hall of Fame and is the recipient of an Honorary of Doctor of Humane Letters degree from West Liberty University.






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