“He called me poopie too”, I replied to all twenty,
“Oh, so you were both poopie?”, persisted my brother,
“Yes, cheepee, peepee, pupu, cheem cheem, poopie”, I answered, ignoring the bewildered look on the face of my mother,
My parents, poor things,
Having to discover, such odd things,
Yet, not having the urge to clip my wings,
For they know, I have committed no sins,
I was just a hopeless fool in love,
Who has now turned into a mourning dove,
I remember that night distinctly, when poopie came off stage, to give me a sweaty hug,
It was a Workshop show, at Hard Rock Cafe and I felt snug as a bug,
A bandmate he adored, screamed out loud, “Awww poopie!”,
I instantly felt my heart melting and began to feel like “his” poopie,
We were poopies, then and there,
A mad, clueless pair.
No comments:
Post a Comment