She wrote a poem just for me --
before dotting the ex
or crossing the p.
& I reflected,
dear lady McGee,
How dare you presume to be?
an inquisitor
of my insanity?

Sir Limericist may thump your rhymes
sashay with his clichéd lines.
cut the teeth on Rosetta stones
Growls with grimaced gagging groans
to go to vast, deep unknowns.
The id divides to legion clones.
Runs naked through the twilight zones
belching out beer-drunken moans.

For old Lim can't pay off his loans,
a pawn to debt, the dummy's become.
Considered like the sewer's scum
below the green man's heavy thumb.
His mind doth beat the same old drum.
While putting himself out & down
seen as a phony bum.

Yet if you imagine you have figured out
his lower-lipped sad-clown pout
in his nut, there's so much more
you'll never be able to explore,
or maybe you
know the score?