That Itch Poem by Dante' Camerlengo
That Itch
That which I hate
I miss very much,
That electric, sharp,
Prickly touch;
Wish I could can her,
Pickle her,
Put her in a hutch.
Get her out
When I want her,
Need her, and such;
Abuse HER, not she
Me
I hate her
Till she’s gone
Then I’m the one who’s messed up
And got it all wrong
That itch I hate—
I miss very much.
Wednesday, February 18, 2009
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5/4/2024 10:20:43 AM # 1.0.0.1119
