To Upstairs

woman

 

 

The imaginary arseholes

Of the harlots

Of the Punjab

Grow banal

I did not use the word anal

The rhyme won’t work

Dear Women of OkCupid

I have bread and I have standards

In that order

Let there be no more marriages

Fur coats and Bette Page boots only

I am not surrendering but goddamn

I can’t even shake hands

And ladies, you’re half spread

Open or close

Let the sign in the window be correct

It’s not that I don’t give up

But I won’t give in

Keep your syph

Make my drink stiff

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