On the Inter-relevance of Roaches and the Music of the Doors

Working that six string
factory-hard
a flame in the foundry
melting the metal
of the folks around the bar.
Morrison’s ghost
barely heard.
An English cockroach
or a German
(hard to tell accents
what with the cacophony
of titter, yammer, and gphaw)
crawled along my beloved’s
napkin — her napkin
on her lap — at our table.
A rapidly drained half-glass
and my wife is up and out.

Now I’ll never know
if the passionate lady
gave up her vow
or — remained a lady.

My first post with d’Verse Poet’s Pub in a long time.  Tonight we’ve been challenged to wax ironic.  Moi?  Ironic?  P’rhaps!  https://dversepoets.com/2017/03/30/meeting-the-bar-irony/