SECATEURS, GARDENING SHEARS, AND SCISSORS

he was fumbling with long pieces of metal
And secateurs, and gardening shears, and scissors

he thought, “I need a sponsor.
Somebody to give me carrot tops.”

there was a girl in pantyhose
A real woman. Her body was a power station

she told him, “I am a racehorse for you to ride.”
Her look was beautiful and natural

they fumbled with long pieces of metal
And secateurs, and gardening shears, and scissors

they thought, “We need a son.”
Somebody to walk with in the streets

many years later, they yelled:
“Toss the salad, boy!”
“Twist that metal frame, boy!”
“Work a variation on this. . ., the. . ., boy!”
“Now will you KNOCK THIS HOUSE DOWN, BOY!”

oh boy! oh boy! The old man, in the end, he whispered to his son:
“You need to stop mucking about.”

somewhere a man had not pulled out in time
Somewhere a mummy had fallen into the sea
Somewhere an unborn child was fumbling with pinking shears
“Get out! GET OUT!” he yelled

the devil knows why
Ugly, ugly devil

::: ::: :::

[Picture: In, Out by reading_is_dangerous]