I know you mean the best for me,
But why is there this urgency?
If once you really had the time
To praise my attributes in rhyme,
I wonder if procrastination
Could truly slow a consummation.
And praising breasts a century
Ignores how shriveled they would be,
And what you mean by “all the rest”
Is really one part, I protest.
But, Andrew, though you may be right,
I didn’t take my pill last night,
And that’s not Winged Time you hear;
I fear it’s Daddy hurrying near.
Go home, and if you still feel randy,
Your fist, you know, is always handy.
Reprinted with permission of "Iambs and Trochees," Fall and Winter 2003