Email Poem

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Poem

I'll tell you when my marriage went sour.
It was when a neighbor saw the milkman at my house for two hours.
When I got married, I sure wasn't blessed.
She had a baby and I demanded a DNA test.
I hoped that she hadn't cheated and that everything would be fine.
But the DNA test proved that my wife's little bastard isn't mine.
When the milkman ordered a shake at my cafe, I filled it with female horomones.
That made him grow breasts and women will no longer touch him, he is all alone.
I've decided not to divorce my wife but our marriage will never be like it was before.
There is thing that is certain, from now on we'll be buying all of our milk at the grocery store.

(This is a fictional poem.)

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