Air-Conditioner Poem by Douglas Scotney
Air-Conditioner
When she says you ought to get one,
you say it makes you soft,
and she says oh it does not!
and you say, 'He's got one,
and I poked him,
and the finger went right in,
and you'd have climbed that rock easy
if you hadn't broke
and got soft enough
to take a finger-deep poke.'
Saturday, December 26, 2015
Topic(s) of this poem: talk
POET'S NOTES ABOUT THE POEM
Lion Rock, Sri Lanka,200 metres and 1200 steps to the top.
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4/25/2024 5:39:34 PM # 1.0.0.1119
Most original, provoking thoughts on air conditioners, which will never be the same again.