For Want Of Jon's Head by Pris Campbell of Poetic Inspirations

For Want Of John's Head

                      but you can leave your hat on
                                        Randy Newman

You bought me a hat made of strawberries.
I wound scarves around it,
danced Salome's dance,
the seventh veil drop grazing the tip of your want.

I won't dwell on it..
That lamentation solicits memories too painful
and pain is a commodity
I've bought excess stock in lately.

Saturated in sex, you saw it in a melon,
an oar stroke, the bat of an eyelash.
Together, we fired a conflagration,
flames fanned by Tom Waits, Rod Stewart,
                                      Randy Newman.
Especially that one about the hat.
Your favorite.

I married a man who hates sex
(it turned out)
dislikes melons
always rows alone
and never has asked me, ever,
to leave my hat on.