Don’t biff it and don’t burn me either
I was thinking
About how French women
In the magazines
Obey the law of decades
When it comes to their hair
Ascending the matron ladder
And shutting their witch down
With knee length hems.
I said I’ve gone normal
With the tree this year son
Lies! I said those lanterns
Are St. Peter
Dangling over the gates of heaven
He said St. Peter is like God’s secretary
But I thought he said the tuatara was God’s secretary
One thing is for certain, God has help
Simon’s father said late in life
There will be beautiful women
To change the colostomy bag
And I liked him then more
Than the salmon
I grilled for dinner.
What am I waiting for?
Men posing with giant watermelons
And pumpkins, the largesse
Of their affections, men in finger-gloves
Holding the primulas to gentle account
Men, running through meadows
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