11/16/11
Do you remember Cecile?
Would you let yourself,
Or would you tramp that down, quick?
The best part is knowing that I found HER.
She talks with her hips;
The deaf have a real way with words.
I heard her message, loud and clear –
“Buy me a beer, big boy.”
You don't trust me?
How about why I get AIDS tests?
There's only so much free love in me,
The rest is clothed in oiled rubber.
I worry more about your cooch
Than I do about my bologna pony.
You're not one to smooch and dismiss;
I hear that you were freaky, that time with Tony.
Go ahead; find yourself 20 Tony-ies.
I'll ride up with my own white pony,
Just another hero in my own fantasy.
I'm here for the long run, not the good run.
You can call it cheating;
You knew I was aiming for tail,
When Cecile and I are out, Keat-ing.
You know who I'd rather rail.
I tell you in advance that you're poison;
We rarely make in-marriage advances.
The advantage was high, the need looming.
It doesn't help that you go off, all assuming.
Your idea of sex has become
Rather hum-drum.
A quick jerk in Sally's bedroom,
A little lick in Taylor's playroom.
I like Cecile, but she ain't forever;
Forever is what I once told some dumb bitch
Who once wrote me prosaic love letters;
I think you know her, very well.
I've got Cecile's cigarette lingering on my tonsils;
You're fretting about lipstick and Charlie vapors.
You treat this like you don't have 2 men on the side,
As if my capers are so much more akin to baby rapers.
You don't trust me? What's not to trust?
You tell me I'm static, utterly predictable.
Did your tarot foresee this tryst?
I'll show you predictable, you fucking bitch.
