Antidepressants - A Fool Would Poem by Herbert Nehrlich

A man, endowed with very little
put on his fingertip some spittle.
Together with her contribution
he'd get his rather lillipution
and flaccid felon to dive in
her pink and ready den of sin.
But age and booze, so often found
tend both to travel round and round
the former tends to keep from swelling
small vessels, though there is no telling
if those that trap the crimson fluid
would with encouragement still do it.
As far as booze, it is essential
and, in its actions penitential
the palate, prone to histrionics
from spirits, chocolates and tonics
is known to also become smitten
with lava flowing from a kitten.
So here we have a situation
where there is silence at the station
red-capped the man who blows the whistle
who guides the now approaching missile
observes and nods because, indeed
the train is now approaching speed.
The locomotive, gleaming, huffing
and from all corners steaming, puffing,
goes in the tunnel without lighting
and finds the journey so exciting
that it soon pledges repetition
without the devil's superstition.
You see, my learned friends, depression
will jeopardize a lover's session
so throw the pills into the bin
embrace a life of steamy sin.