My sister, Jane, says
She is too dry to blog
As dry as a bone
Her brain’s in a fog
With all of this sweat
And all of this heat
It takes all you’ve got
To stay on your feet
But I disagree, Jane
Your muse is still there
It’s protected by bone
Heat-shielded by hair
Like so many other
Of our secret wares
We hold it too close
We hide what’s "down there"
But sometimes you must
Admit that you’re dry
Head down to the drugstore
And buy some K-Y
Oh, don't be so shocked
It’s not unrelated
This blog keeps my writing
Quite well lubricated
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3 comments:
Thanks. I was going to just put a comment on your blog, but Adolph had already said what I intended to say, so I was forced to be more elaborate.
From the sweet little poems she wrote for Gramdma Ford when she was about ten-years-old to this....
Mary
Dammit! Why do I always have to be Michael?! Is it because I'm white? No fair!
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