Dare I do the derring-do?
I do not. Each time is fraught
with insanity the painters do;
close brushes, gads what a woman’s to you!
An encyclopaedia unbound if she knew
what illiteracy twirls the screw
gorging on the podium of my thumb!
Learned on her I cannot pass, tame dumb
do not give her her due.
Zip is the total sum my lip reveals;
there are certain issues with which I do not deal.
What inaccuracy with her!
She shall not be alarmed today.
What an asexual need not say!
Alas, I durst not kick Atlas, bite Prometheus,
Librarian in the solitude of my shush.
St-Lambert, circa 1983.