It Was Your Doctor Who Poem by James McLain

The report was even louder, this time
I watched, Dr.who, slow it down
the bullet just spun through the air, de-
verb-ed tied to a string, dancing through
me in and out, you laughed at my faces
inability to comprehend my understanding
maybe one, two holes at the most but over twenty?
Heavily fruitful Jayne steeped in his personal assistant
did realize such fancies as delightful as you make
them sound need to be conserved for a much
wider guidance of divisiveness.
Happy wild Jayne plugs all the holes with pork?
What was I to gain by watching you give
me desert on a string, while I watched from the other room
hungry............