Monday, October 1, 2018

If I Ever Lose My Mouth

This cold is piercing me and it’s raining.
OK, I’ll go in soon.
Is the moon waxing or waning?
The moon is shining like a gold doubloon,
and we know the stock market's gaining.
OK, I’ll go in soon.
Never sure if we’re honest or feigning:
You’ll be spending some time on the beach soon.
This cold is piercing me, it’s raining.
Can’t tell if the moon’s waning
or waxing, while
 I'm fiddling this dancing tune,
not sure if the hounds are flagging or gaining.
I’m scratching my head like a dumb baboon
or an accountant in training,
daring to attempt feats of ledger-demain—
waxing moon-glow in my brain—
Besame Mucho, all I croon.
This cold is piercing me and it’s raining.
OK, I’ll go in soon.