he was some limp wristed sister from the back row, I think
a little bit dusty
thought I'd brush off the rust and polish him a bit
throw on some new rags
he'd be good to go,
but never did I anticipate this ...

no sooner than polished and ready to roll
like some fire breathing snap dragon with pomade,
he flew
straight into backlash with that terrible breech
what an uproar in my universe
what an ugly sight to finish ...

I had no choice but to do him a favor
and allow his grieving mother a break
took out a sword from my side satchel,
for times just like this
and cut down his head
so, he'd never,
ever do this again ...

he walks with a limp on a good day
stutters like no tomorrow
drinks like a wimp,
no more diving in dumpsters for diamonds
next time,
I'll just head to Tiffany's ...

05/19/2007

Posted on 05/20/2007
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