Lounging in the back rooms;
Far away from the kids,
Far away from responsibility.
Don't even try to understanding comes slowly.
With exotic, esoteric eschatologies knocking down your door,
You don't even need my penny-ante ramblings.
Sew, Y Я U still reading?
There, but for the Grace, Space Ace.
I'm bored, too.
After all, there's no one I'd rather see again than
Your once upon a time.
There's no greater love than that between
Paisley and Chantilly lace.
There's no higher calling than to fight for
The lasting impression.
There's the the and the who and the
WTF are you talking about?
I'm talking about the birds and the bees and the flowers and the
Funny thing, that word of three letters.
Second person, singular.
Neuter in the mother tongue,
But implied feminine in this poem anyway.
I'm not really making a connection, though, amirite? So, I'll just take a
Right where the calendar's wrong.