Monday, September 24, 2018

Werewolves of New Orleans By Todd Cirillo

“I saw a werewolf drinking a pina colada

at Trader Vic’s, his hair was perfect.” —Warren Zevon



In the last ten minutes

before my birthday begins

I sit in my room,

silent.

No music, no booze,

no guests.

Just me

listening

to the air conditioner

hum.

I feel like Warren Zevon

at the end of the world.

There is no special meaning

to it.

I don’t feel older.

I don’t feel wiser.

I don’t feel tired.



Soon,

my phone will light up

with messaged wishes

and I will make every one count

with friends

and bartenders.

Knocking back

each year

with another bottle,

but for now,

at this moment

with four minutes left,

I understand why Warren

wrote Werewolves of London.



At exactly midnight,

I’ll go outside,

howl at the waxing moon,

let the new neighbors know

they’ve got something real special

on their hands,

walk up to the all-night bar

on the corner,

order a Pina Colada

and my hair

will be perfect.



About Todd Cirillo: 
Todd Cirillo is a poet, publisher, editor and pirate. He co-founded Six Ft. Swells Press and has had multiple books published including his latest, Burning the Evidence (Epic Rites Press, 2017). Todd's poems have appeared in various national and international magazines and cocktail napkins everywhere. Todd lives in New Orleans, Louisiana. He can be found at afterhourspoetry.com and toddcirillo.com

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