Buddy was a high stepper.
Poor prepper.
Buddy had a bounce in his step.
Satan hadn’t caught him yet.
But the sly fox.
The bully boxer.
That mutherfucker can dance!
Oh, to see his honor prance!
Glides through the air
Like Fred Astair…
And if, like him, you chance
To see his whole routine.
The hole mess, obscene…
He’s a cancer, man!
A gimbled up hand.
He’s a pain the neck.
He’s a “what the heck…”
So a head slightly turns
And knuckles so burned
Take a mind off life
And what it’s strife
Really brings to light.
Life’s a bitch, but it’s worse
If you weaken.
+ There are no comments
Add yours