Poem
Sick attendee in our training class
celebrated his first of three days in Boston
with an array of Long Island Iced Tea toasts
that required no subjects
to cite before drinking,
making them go down quicker.
By next afternoon, he couldn't hold back the bilge,
ran to the bathroom, came back
to have us call environmental services.
He said he missed the bowl by two steps.
A quick glance inside showed
that it was at least four or five.
He never even made it through the stall door.
Girlfriend, I'm sorry if the lies I tell myself
about the pain you clearly see
are just as obvious.
No comments:
Post a Comment