Saturday, September 27, 2008


I still can't tell the Freeman twins apart.
Rayanna doesn't like my underpants,
And Maya thinks that watering the plants
Is only something for the faint at heart.
Rayanna feels that pilling is an art
For tender little folk, and Maya rants
About the monks who sing Gregorian chants.
Neither is beautiful, or nice, or smart.

So when they offered me the chance to be
With them one night, it almost made me faint,
But when I swooned, and offered no complaint,
They gave me smelling salts, and coddled me
Until my head swelled, making me agree.
I am a patient man, but not a saint.

Thursday, September 18, 2008


The evidence all stands against your case,
But make this one attempt, bright, brave, and brash:
Convince us you were never short of cash
Or friends, that this depleted can of Mace
Was used only to help the human race,
That you were only joking, merely rash
And contrary the time you made that dash
For safety in some hidden, secret place.

They found you in the church, robbing the blind
And jostling the sick. What will you say?
That they were always falling anyway?
We've tried to be so generous and kind,
But all that has been wasted, undermined
By everything you said and did today.

Tuesday, September 09, 2008

Walking Without Shoes

I've been reduced to walking without shoes,
But I still have my short-sleeved shirt, my pants,
And half a leather belt. My precious rants
Did not impress her, and the Irish booze
Just made things worse. I asked her to peruse
The speeches which earned me those genius grants,
But she said she would rather feed the plants
By squeezing paper towels to make them ooze.

I offered her a kiss, but she said No,
And then I showed her my enormous feet,
Which caused her to inform me, then repeat
That nothing pleased her less than my big toe,
Except perhaps the other toes. "Please go,"
She whispered, which is why I'm on the street.

Tuesday, September 02, 2008


Despite assurances that we could stay,
The bouncer threw us out. He wasn't nice:
Our drinks were new — there was unmelted ice
Still in our glasses, so it's not okay
To claim that we had just refused to pay.
We used to have a tab here, but that's twice
Our credit's been turned down, and there's a price
For acting meanly, treating us this way.

We're heading to the bar across the street,
Where everybody treats us well, and thinks
Your shabby hospitality here stinks.
The tavern-keeper's saving us a seat,
So adios — we're voting with our feet
For peace, civility, and ice cold drinks.