THE ITCH

Written by: delysia hendricks

I've a growing b-tch 
of a persistent itch
plaguing a part down under
in a well-hidden spot
sweaty and hot
tearing my sanity asunder

I long for a table
legs sturdy and stable
for a really quick rub up-and-down
even a toothpick
or any such gimmick
heaven help;  it's now inside my crown

Tightly I'm tethered
I grin but nay bear it 
for relief lift my legs a mere tad
the heat's volcanic
the swelling gigantic
as far as itch goes this is bad

Mouth starting to foam
I hobble on home
I've mere minutes 'fore madness takes hold
my head's on the spin
an orchestra within
one step from insanity's threshold

Once inside my abode
rev to fast turbine mode
my eyes and my fingers a-twitch
on the verge of cuckoo
I kick off my shoe
with relish scratch the dastardly itch

I curse, for this morning
I disregarded Ma's warning:
"Today sultry and hot is our weather
to avoid insanity
wear shoes that are comfy 
not those ones of el cheapo leather."