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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