Pecker Heads

I juke and jive,
gimmee dat sign,
hyper flapping bird
on second base, I stretch the truth,
crazy leg it clean through Stecker’s stop sign,
out by a dirt cloud short stop slide.
The blood, a thick ooze emblem
below my bottle cap knee.
Stecker says, “You’re one slow shit
and lose them awful shorts!
Nothin’ shown
but chicken bone.”

So I roll up a trouser, do tell,
shake my lanky shank at Lois,
peel petrified plasma and
coolly quip, “Dig this blood potato chip.”
she mutters,
“Knuckle draggin’ Neanderthal.”
In purple panic, I pull out rusty Rubin,
the blood like mercury, rising,
but Lois, she shouts
“Put that pee shooter away!
Nothin’ shown
but chicken bone.”

Ahh, yes, now I recall:
Not to go on all fours;
That is the Law.
But,
Are we not men?

09/14/2007

Author's Note: What am I trying to prove?

Posted on 09/15/2007
Copyright © 2026 David Hill