Like everything dumb,
overuse ruins any fun worth running tickets for.
I stayed in the sun too long playing cricket with no one, once,
followed crumbs back to the club house
and sat with the drinks next to the drinkers,
climbed down from four under par wicket keepers and laid in their innards until Solo came and cut me out,
pushed me into the car park
scored by shouts from the bleacher set girls to shut up,
we can’t hear each other fingering ourselves to cassette tapes of how it's really meant to be done,
you dumb set of eight digits, one thumb leftover from risking it on Everest,
do you not read the advice columns on how to advise your significant others to carry on regardless of this phone call?
I confess, officer,
I’ve been drinking,
so keep me calm until the coroner agrees that you did this, messed with the wrong guy,
lawfully inclined not to whisper a word cos you needed a raise:
targets to hit mean free Target gift cards and I’m one way for you to get that new pool table baize
and bar for your club room.