Friday, October 12, 2007

Wilt Hammer

In the house next to the house you want to buy

Lives the world’s ugliest transvestite.

Seeing him undone you’ve barked, in passing,

The truck precisely navigating the gentle

Bend the road takes into vastly less cool

Neighborhoods. Imagine a beard patching

Its way through creased cakes of base makeup,

Large legs darkly nubbed in here and there

Splaying nylons, a street corner marking

The boundaries of what is at premium

Most desirabe, the house, and wrong, the man

Be-penised and thus malformed to this world,

Imagine how he would be glad to watch the kids

So you could scuttle up some afternoon coitus.

Wait. I’ve already gone too far haven’t I?


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