Know Thyself By Les Fox

His fingers wanted to graze his nose.

Right after they scratched his arse.

His index twiched as his nose signalled gold.

His eyes cleared the space and in due course

A calamity of horking, gagging and farting.

Snot bundling, shit staining, spit dangling on long whiskers.

And long lines of well wishers

Who know you snot.

You won’t be caught.

You’re safe now.

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