Poem 16 of the ProCrasstheNation Poemvember Poetry Project invokes past memory. Lifelong friend Joel Venezia recalled once upon a time when I wore a pair of Ted Arcidi red singlets as a party gag. Those were the days.
Joel, grab them cakes…I don’t care what it takes.
Party gags and parlor tricks,
were once my chief forte.
I deepened fun with crass antics,
a champ at drinking games.
A weekly binge among close friends,
was never dull or void.
House parties early morning’s end,
the underaged deployed.
When there was a lull in the night,
I’d sneak to the bedroom.
That is where red singlet tights,
became my proud costume.
At once, again, I’d reappear.
Barbed chest hair all exposed.
To the disappointment of most folks there,
below the waist was juxtaposed.
I’d swagger and gesticulate,
take photos with my fans.
Pose and strut, and lift some weights,
avoiding groping hands.
Just as quick, I’d escape.
An Ol’ Irish Goodbye.
Party goers mouth’s agape.
Simply, wondering why?
Oh, those times they left a mark,
if memory serves correct.
That chubby kid, acting a punk,
in skin tight, red singlets.