Happens, it does, in a house of two loos
That husbands and wives utilize them in twos.
At one at the same time dispense we our waste!
The effluence merges, and love voids the place
Of solids and liquids, each giving chase
Down into plumbing and into the sewage–
An intimate mingling! Ejecta and brewage!
Oh, blessing of sorts! Oh, lurid perfection!
Celebrate we this wet cosmic connection!
I have a problem with my feet.
In winter of all times each sweats–
Olfactor’ly my nose doth meet
Sad, Sino-socks—none can contain
What each should best be hidin’.
Wife, she winces, pinches spent
Pairs from the toxic garden
Into laundry chutes they’re spurned–
Returned to Sino-Biden:
“These, your profits, these you’ve earned
“In China’s breast abidin’.”
Yet as I wear the pairs Red-crafted
Doff the pairs each night.
Consign them not to laundry baskets–
Noses, eyes, from site.
O, full of scorpions is my mind, dear wife!
Have I been a Scotsman all my life?
Macbeth: Act III, Scene II.
Three days home, plus Christmas Eve and Christmas–
Sorry, you two, Aunt Flo’s here on business:
“Thou: deny your nuptial rights and fitness.”
Swollen men! Must we endure this witness!
Liza Minelli’s first name is said wrong.
The long Ī’s a ruinous, clumsy diphthong.
But Liza’s—like Pisa’s name—soars like a tower
And leaningly swages with love and with power.
My uncle gives me pause, a scare:
He frets to stare at Fred Astaire.
Hum’s humble Haze’s home.
A waif is here
Who has high hems
And hame-like nettings
Down her gams.
Hum hums hymns to her.
Hum hums inside himself.
Wants to make
Her do his own name’s
Clement grew potent, got caught in the moment.
He swelled out his monument—started to foment—
As Ms. Clement donned an erotical garment.
He: “Quotients of marriage are my just emolument.
“My seeds need to vomit a certain emollient.”
She: “Don’t froth so, dear—for me it’s a condiment.”