“EVERY TIME I DON’T OPEN MY MOUTH, I Say The Wrong Thing!”

“EVERY TIME I DON’T OPEN MY MOUTH, I Say The Wrong Thing!” a poem. September 5, 2018 – Wednesday!

{I made it to the grocery store around 12:00 noon, without any major collisions (on my bicycle), but, when I got to Aisle 3, I mentioned to the checker that LOVE IS A FICKLE THING – She said that I was kooky, which is her way of saying that she loves me. I understand these things because I am so aware of everything – AND – NOTHING AT ALL!!}

I said to the checker out lady: {the exact words; what a poet, and I don’t knowit}

“Love can be fickle, like a pickle: sometimes sweet – and sometimes sour,”

(then I left the store, completing this poem, on my receipt slip, in the Noon day Sun, inspired by thoughts of my Beloved, my Muse and my o.a.o. [One And Only …)

{Let’s start again, shall we?}

Love can be fickle, like a pickle; sometimes sweet and sometimes sour,

But, with you – love’s-pure-and-never-ending, &

IT’s always, always –

Filled with power! (pause, for a sigh)

BUT, (pause again) when the pots and pans do fly,

To hit me square – in-my black-&-blue eye,

AND, WHEN I FAIL TO ANSWER THE PHONE,

Soon enough! (pause) Well,

I’LL BE ALONE!!!

Crying, sobbing, waiting for you,

‘Cause-you-need-assurance – that I won’t screw,

You-around – AND-SO-I-GET-

A-BIG-RED-ROSE, and-you-reveal-your-teat,

Which you stuffie – in my mouthie,

You fill me up – I go down southie,

And FIND A LITTLE NOTE ATTACHED:

“I WANT A MINK – FOR THIS MIGHT PATCH,

OUR-PRECIOUS-LOVE, which-you-must-despise,

Unless-I-see-that-pretty-mink-soon – between my thighs!”

[and, now, for the rest of The Story:]

So, I spent a bunch o’ money – for a first rate mink!

And-NOW-I-think-it-could-be-fake, ‘cause-it-got a stink,

Like fresh raccoon – or dooble berry*

BUT IT D O E S SAY “mink,” (pause) It’s my ticket to marry,

The sweetest gal I know in town,

WHO LOVES TO SPIN MY HEAD AROUND! 🙂 – yea, baby – I’m in LOVE!

fin. ❤

    • the most malodorous shrub known to modern (wo)man!!

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