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Love-Themed Limerick

October 28, 2010

Earlier this month I was positive I had posted my most inappropriate poem of 2010, but then yesterday I found the piece below saved on the memo pad of my cell phone. I’m pretty sure I wrote it.

The probable author would like to assure her readers that, as with the diarrhea poem, the horse-sex poem, the cat-eating poem, and others, it is a work of fiction, unfettered by the boring demands of personal experience. Only the most pretentious highbrow poet would feel compelled to stick to verses about the history of western literature, the haunting legacy of family secrets, the responsibility of a writer to his readers, the psychological impossibility of returning to life after one has died, etc. The best way to go about writing is to constantly change up one’s setting: write from the ivory tower (ha ha ha ha ha ha) of academia one day, Mount Olympus the next day, the gutter the day after that, and so on. It keeps everyone awake.

An insect of bawdy intent,
One summer night, entered my tent.
The coarse little shit
Bit me right on the clit,
And without further romance, he went.

Kate Strayer, ladies and gentlemen. She’ll be here all night. Tip your server.

One Comment leave one →
  1. Jim Shorts permalink
    October 28, 2010 10:07 am

    “Tent” is a great euphemism for it. With fine opportunities for furtherance… ridge tent, 2-man tent, circus tent, etc.

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