Thursday, 9 February 2012


a couple of bowties walk in,
real starched gentlemen
of the finest liquor.
i open door, good
afternoon them and
politely smile.
the more portly of
the two quips
from a mouth silver -
spooned / dirty croissant /
fellatio wrung /
"yeeeeessssss sir!" retort's i,
bend over and assume
my place in this horrendous

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