The severed head of Kermit the Frog sits upon my desk
but I do not have a peppermint stick to give him
No teeth chatter upon your buffet table of steel
No elbows bang upon your car window
No squeegees for the Bee Gees
No shoes using DOS in trees
No pentameter poems in the room
Sometimes work is like a peeled onion
crammed in a shorted electrical outlet
flaming insanely and cool to the touch
but it never comes around
wearing a neoprene diving suit
made of clam skins and sand dollar livers
Nonetheless, only work can make your eyes bulge
as though you were in the electric chair
The electric chair of love.
Back to poetry index…