Wednesday 30 April 2014

a one hundred and fifteenth poem...'relief'

‘Don’t pick your nose’, said the man.
‘I wasn’t’, said the woman.
‘It’s very unladylike’, said the man.
‘And what would you know
About being unladylike?’, said the woman.
‘For Chrissakes I’m a man, ain’t I!’, said the man.
‘I wasn’t picking my nose all the same’, said the woman.
And then, to the relief of rest of the assembled
Man and womankind, the bus arrived.

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