Winter’s Gentleman

In a way, I was forever winter’s child, born from snow in the Midwest

I was bottled near a silver city, where the lights were bright for a moment

As my mother soon brought us to the salty desert near the sea

The West coast then was dipped in so many golden memories

I had forgotten that we ran from a monster far younger than my mom

There was a crumbling peace then, with new roommates in our lives

A short decade went by without a man present to teach me

My mom saw this and we mobilized a plan; my own naivety blissfully center stage

So we packed our bags, driving by giant yarn balls and dinosaurs

To the land of my dad

Once more we stayed for many winters, many members of humanity with testicles bigger than their brains, many dire roommates who always found a way to stay

Dad put his hands where no true man should—often, always; we ran as far as we could

My mom told me to be a gentleman, whatever that means, I’d think

A combatant, a protector, or perhaps a cunning prince sent off to war

The longest decade went by and we mobilized a plan, to the Southlands

We followed our roommates to their family’s resting place

Their family packed their bags not long after; we were stuck in a melting heat wave

Our provider gave up on life; I realized that life wasn’t life unless I was away

Boozing and crooning and brooding, while working at the bar, all through the nights

I met an angel, she flew away; time stopped until it didn’t, I’d marry her one day

Boozing and crooning and brooding all through each day

The monster died, I heard; it haunted me for a while

I was promised a new life in a city where they keep secrets, if only I knew

Born in Missouri—Swam in California—Damaged in Illinois—Drank in South Texas—Froze in Las Vegas

Tried college, wanted to create

Couldn’t afford San Francisco, left with my tail between my legs

Drank some more, that’s all I knew how to do

Bought a camera, wrote a book, made some videos, submitted to publishers

I’ll make it in maybe ten years, or, well, that’s my current attitude

My angel floated back to me, both of us with broken wings

Perhaps maybe I could be the gentleman that my mother still needs

To this day, we’ll see

Having children truly changes perspective, don’t let anyone say different

If someone has kids and says it don’t, get the hell away from them

My mom had it rough since her birth up until now

I had it rough, but it was different, we can’t compare suffering

For we’d all be covered in the darkest of clouds

My son won’t go through these things, I tell myself

Family history won’t be repeated, but hell, my wife has her own things she scared of as well

In a way, my son became winter’s child, born in North Texas

He was bottled within the concrete meadow, where grass rarely grew

As my wife and I soon brought him somewhere someplace as we want better for him always

I am so proud

He will be a gentleman, whatever that means—he’ll learn as we’ve defined it…

Don’t I know it, he’ll rebel

I raised hell, but I came home and hoped to save it

What are preposterous dream

I shiver in the summer and grow warm when it’s cold

This state is rough, but it’s just like the others

They all think they’re the center of the universe, but I guess I do, too

Winter isn’t aware of me; winter will go on far beyond my time

I hope I make history heavier than what part I’ve had that’s came before

My son might actually outrun me, becoming the president or more

These days I pray, although I’m unsure if it’s worth it

All over the country, it’s become quite morbid

The snow rarely comes here, although when it does I don’t feel a thing

It’s the heat index of my pride and reminiscing that pushes me from sane

The monster still lingers, but his river has been enclosed

There is a peace and it, too, lingers

The laughter of my family makes me feel glee

It’s almost autumn, which is far more beautiful than it has a right to be

This makes it soon winter, where I will have aged onced more

My son will be one and I will be thirty

The wild boy meets the supposed gentleman—what else is life for but a lesson in distance?

In a way, we are all winter’s child—what a disconcerting parent

It comes and goes

It comes and it just goes

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Website: Tristan Drue Insta: Tristramduke

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