you know the thing about great artists
and their sexual appetites
Picasso, Sartre
Mussolini
how’d Benito put it
“caught her on the stairs, threw her into a corner,
made her mine•
I mean and can you blame him
what with all those panties flying ‘cross the stage
and then she insults me
says, ‘I robbed her of her honour’
what kind of honour can she be talking about?
with that 174 ten pin average
that tongue like a Nazi toy shop
wasn’t me that was riding daddy’s little bucking horse
all those years
painting up those calla lilies
like sliced peaches
how was I supposed to know what was in that head of hers
I mean hell she just rolled a 203
and sure wasn’t she beaming
like plate glass
