HATS OFF (FOR KYLE)

HATS OFF (FOR  KYLE)

Hats off to you, my darling man,

You see me in a way that no one else can.

I've loved you since I laid eyes on you,

Am thrilled to call you mine,

I'm 64 and you're now 59.

So let us slice the cheesecake,

Enjoy the sweetness of the wine,

Cuddle and commiserate

On the swift passage of time.

How quickly it has flown,

For those confined to flesh and bone.

Hats off to you, dear man,

My beginning and my end,

How the road can buckle, 

How the road can bend,

And oh my but you're aging well,

Scarcely a wrinkle on that face so handsome,

It would surely command a hefty ransom.

By thieves who crave your beauty tips

That tantalizing touch, those luminous lips,

That sweet scent of Spice Bomb when I lean in for a kiss.

So hats off to you, have a happy birthday,

Make each day a blissful mirth day.

Let's raise a glass and toss some balloons,

Whistle me one of your sweet Blondie tunes,

Open your gifts, slice the cheesecake.

We'll see how much merry two men can make.

We can cuddle and commiserate with song and with wine,

And mock with our vigor the passage of time.

Celebrate the days gone by and greet those still to be,

We'll face them all together, forever you and me.

-Bruce Potts

Copyright 2026

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

EVERYTHING HURTS BUT YOU

 EVERYTHING HURTS BUT YOU

(FOR KYLE, ON YOUR BIRTHDAY) 

Everything hurts these days but you

The hips especially, having been ravaged by falls

The arms from the stiffness when the meds do not work.

The legs rigid as stout little toothpicks-

 On their slow journey to nowhere  

Everything hurts, like the loss of my brother

Cruelly cut down in his prime.

I had hoped and prayed we would have more time

But the gods who deal out life and death

Who micromanage human breath

Made the decision to spirit him away

And everything it hurts but you in the naked light of day.

Everything hurts but you, like my lower back and spine,

Who conspire at length against me, the cheater and his concubine;

Everything hurts like the blow that I took to the head

When I  fell in the bathroom and copiously bled

Down came the shower curtain, striking my head with the sharp end of the rod

I could have been a goner, but for the grace of God.

Everything hurts but you, like the dyskinesias that threaten to tear me limb from limb,

When the meds are working overtime, and my feet they move like mayhem.

Through all of this, my love, there is you, ever stalwart and  ever true,

You bravely walk beside me on this twisted path of pain 

Through the damaging winds and the driving rain that always falls in spurts

You are my treasured talisman that heals and never hurts.

You slow me down and calm my heart with a warm and wondrous glow.

And today on this your birthday,  I just thought that you should know.

-Bruce Potts

Copyright 2025

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED 

BURIED TREASURE

BURIED TREASURE

(FOR KYLE, ON YOUR BIRTHDAY)

I found you in the nick of time,

Searched for you for years,

In the hills and in the valleys,

Up some dark and dank blind alleys,

Followed the vague scent I smelled,

Of rich Spice Bomb cologne,

My olfactory sense betrayed me,

And I trudged back home alone.

But God or perhaps the universe,

Took pity on my plight,

Gave me raw speech unrehearsed,

Blinded I was by your sight.

Back when illness was mild, infirmity still a child,

We traveled to Europe and saw the sights,

Ate gelato in Italy by the Trevi Fountain at night,

Saw the Eiffel Tower in its majesty,

Had coffee in the grand cafes of France,

Buckingham Palace in Britain.

In Ireland a joyful jig of a dance.

Then there was Prague and Amsterdam,

Quebec and Montreal,

The architecture sweeping,

The rise before my fall.

Then you followed me, shadowed me,

With the grip of a stalwart friend

Now you rise to steady me,

As the road buckles and bends.

And today it is your birthday,

I thank your parents I was privileged to know,

For creating you from the gene pool,

That glistened bright as winter snow.

And had I been on the open seas like a pirate or a Viking,

I could not have found a single man more to my liking.

My love for you is infinite, a joy that has no measure.

And I am yours to the end of time,

My sparkling buried treasure.

-Bruce Potts

Copyright 2023

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

HAPPY BIRTHDAY

HAPPY BIRTHDAY

Happy birthday, happy birthday,
Happy birthday to me,
Never thought I'd make it to this anniversary.
Two years ago I thought it'd be nifty,
To make it to the age of fifty.
And now my years beneath the sun,
They now total fifty-one.
Although I admit to jumping the gun,
And celebrating early, tempting fate,
My birthday's not until the seventh,
But I am antsy and just can't wait.

You're welcome to come to my party,
You don't have to wear a costume.
Just bring a smile that's warm and hearty,
And perhaps one of those big balloons.
You know the ones, helium filled,
With a pithy line like you're over the hill,
Or in my case, wow, you're not quite dead.
But although you're not yet deathly ill,
You spend a lot of time in bed.

And although my head is nearly bare,
And my brain as soft as jello.
I'm really none the worse for wear,
Well, not for an 80 year old fellow.
Come join my sweet frivolity,
My geriatric jollity.
Mr. Parkinson will be here,
And do his dyskinetic dance,
I made it through in spite of him,
Paid the piper, took the chance.

And now I'm set for another year,
I rejoice so much to be here,
Posting pictures of kittens and flowers,
Whiling away my final hours.
Closest thing to a Facebook king
This tired old world has ever seen.
Promoting my glorified gay agenda
And my hedonistic lifestyle,
As I gasp for breath and lurch toward death,
Blowing out the candles on my birthday cake of smiles.

Happy birthday, happy birthday,
Happy birthday to me.
Never thought I'd make it to this anniversary.
Fifty-one years on this lofty luscious earth,
You can bet I'm going to milk this day
For all the fun it's worth,

Perhaps I'll go on a vicious tear, who knows what I'll do?
Probably just spend the day with Judy and with Emmylou.
And if you are my neighbor and hear my blasting stereo,
Just say, so sad, just leave him be, it's just that birthday weirdo.

And my beloved Mary Chapin with her ashes and her roses,
Or the handsome Rufus Wainwright in provocative poses.
They will all drop by the old Victrola to spread some natal cheer,
And marvel that I made it through to see another year.
Or the great Kathy Mattea with her Appalachian charm,
A birthday boy could sure be proud to have her on his arm.

At most I may just overdose on a surfeit of chocolate,
The bittersweet is good for you, full of antioxidants.
All in all I can promise you a happy holiday,
Grateful for the wisdom that the years have sent my way.

I'll spend my birthday with my love.
He's a true blue friend of mine.
I need or want for nothing but my cherished valentine.
Happy birthday, happy birthday, I know I'll have a splendid time,
And then I'll be all tuckered out and sawing logs by nine.

-Bruce Potts
Copyright 2012
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED