On A Fellow Poet's Defense Of A Friend Hitting Her Over The Head With A Bat. Poem by David McLansky
On A Fellow Poet's Defense Of A Friend Hitting Her Over The Head With A Bat.
Often when a man is drunk,
The part of him that is a skunk
Emerges while he's in a funk;
So,
You didn't end of up in a trunk,
I guess you love this crazy hunk;
Don't share with him the upper bunk
For fear you'll hear another clunk.
Friday, June 6, 2014
Topic(s) of this poem: love
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4/19/2024 6:00:03 AM # 1.0.0.1119
