Photo by RP Thomas
Trouble in Talent
In April I shall shave
my beard, Tex said,
and in May I shall
move into town.
Tex looked outside
at the black clouds
circling above Talent
like a murder of crows.
First, I am too old
to be your cuckold;
and you, Lizzie
DeLay, are too cold.
Lizzie sat in her chair
with her hair down,
her bold countenance
drawn low that day.
The wag Ted later said,
through the gloom of Tex’s
Tavern, love is doomed;
hate always more truthful.
If you want proof, look
around; Lizzie’s feet are well
off the ground, and Big Mike
has swallowed a spoonful.
TS
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