Poetry

Funny Bone

I am touched by the
outpourings of concern for the
potency of my penis
that propagate in my
junk
file,
but these missives
are positing
a creeping paranoia
over my performance.
The offers are
premature,
I am not –
yet,
but their
crystal balls
see a safe bet
and they won’t curtail
their advances,
waiting for their
chance,
that fateful day
when I awake
forlorn,
limp, and
looking
to get things
cooking again

Categories: Poetry

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