Mr. B lives in here,
Building Six. He’s pretty fat--
always on a diet--
walks kind of funny, too--
a World War Two wound.
He’ll never see eighty again,
but he doesn’t show it.
When he sees Mr. C--
Mr. C lives in here
too--
Mr. B grins at him
and asks,
“You think I LIKE diet drinks?”
then he winks at Mr. C.