a bit too much.
Perhaps it is
just little me,
so out-of-line
that I am past
all shame now,
no embarrassment
can get to me
only priorities,
so look at this
with a small dab
of vegemite,
not peanut butter
or jam from
Shepherd’s files.
In actuality
I wondered
could you,
that should be
would you,
kindly send
by
Federal Express
your pillow,
the one
in case
you do peruse
a multiple
of those,
the one that has
the privilege
to be as close
to you and yours
(by which I mean
the parts that make
the sum of
what can best
be said to represent
the SNUGGELIES,)
there are no
other wishes
at this time,
my love.
And please don’t
hesitate,
I am the ailing
owner of a script
for pheromones.
They say it is
essential.