Misbehavin’ (My Pork Sword & Me)


Should I go out and get drunk, maybe get in a fight
or stay in and duel with my pork sword tonight?
Touche and riposte, I assume my Agrippa
picture Bunny Galore – last night’s stripper
A bony old lass from a town near a loch
who said her one job was to dance on the clock.
The mambo, lambada, fandango and waltz
– movements performed while listing her faults
which were many, she said, like her skin and her teeth
and her hair and her nails. On me she bequeathed
this knowledge, along with a point for my sword
driving me crazy with soft, whispered words.

Good or bad, I don’t care. She was speaking to me
and friends, that alone was worth the large fee
for the price of admission and ticket to ride.
She saddled my pony and rode from the side
like a lady, then bounced, to my chagrin.
Still, I do believe I’m feeling again
what I felt last night when I left to go toy
with my pork sword, alone, a sad little boy
in my car by myself … just like now in my bed
I close my eyes and see visions of red
green and gold – 38 different Hughs
and bunnies galore in high-heeled shoes.


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