The Bindlestiff and the Stoat

Cut the belt of nastiness
And watch his pants fall
Revealing the shoddy boxer shorts
With what looks suspiciously like
Smudged chocolate
Take a handful of rice
And throw it on the ice
In front the gerontology clinic
At summers end the bees
Gather gaily (?) at the lake’s
Edge and I mallet them into hash as
They are slow movers now that
The air has cooled
Lucinda stuck a flaming brand in
My pants one night when I said
She should cut off all of her
Lavish locks and go to the masquerade ball
As Telly Savalis--no sense of humor
But I like the mallet with ants
Even with aunts save for auntie Bee
Who once clocked me into next Tuesday
With a haymaker that would have
Killed Muhammad Ali
Ah, spill all the puce canards until
The plover leaves a keepsake in
Your coffee…