You lift
your sniffy nose up high again.
D’you do
it every time you’re in the shop
or only
when your mood’s about to flop?
Perhaps you’re not far off from needing Zen
to calm
yourself when stropping next to Ken
who grabs
for goodies, won’t come to a stop,
then
crams himself till he’s about to drop.
His
stomach aches, he moans. Ignore it. Men!
I’m
crying out in need for my lost cream
as well,
deprived of stuff that makes me whole.
I stand
here hard as chalk, but they all seem
to think
I’ll sell, so that’s to be my role.
They’re
hoping dozy men stay in a dream
like Ken
who’s madly scoffing buns, poor soul.
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