Crass Castrati

Cut off your face
to join your nose.
You're vexed by
such small room to talk.
A gentleman never tells
but those who claim so

I've fudged too many tax returns
to let some skirt get the best of me.
Truth be told, John Q, it's unclear
what that would be
though there's a club
who sometimes sleeps with me
precisely for my faults
and another sadder sector
that wishes that they could.

(I'd kind of like to put things
where you didn't know
you'd like them.)

Keep calm until the sheriff comes.
He always carries breath mints.

No comments: