If I Shopped For My Spouse Like My Automobile
In ancient times when life appeared as swell,
with gorgeous wife and Chevy runnin’ fine,
there’d be no tale to share now where I tell,
uplifting stories ‘bout my sad decline.
It seems one morning gone completely mad,
I took the stairs up where our God resides,
then peed in his Cheerios somethin’ bad,
‘cuz now I live at mom’s ‘n hitch-hike rides.
Yet these are words expelled not from a bum,
but from an educated poet (hack),
and time has come for me to free this thumb,
from hidden places found around my back.
So what came first, the chicken or its egg?
I’ve sat and pondered now for sixteen weeks -
because to snag a chick ‘n make her beg,
I need a car that for me smoothly speaks.
BUT – because mom provides, I don’t need cash,
and since she does there’s no real need to work,
plus I’m still sad about my ex-wife’s dash,
which left me half the man and thrice the dork.
Unfairly screwed my plight now seems to be -
there’ll be no broad without a car to drive,
but wheels don’t roll on game-board currency,
and both are needed or I won’t survive.
Anyways, Bonnie, real quick ‘fore I shake –
(you’re my fav'rite ex-wife, oh by the way)
divorcing you remains my worst mistake,
so… let’s re-hitch and spare this dual dismay!
You’ve gained a few but I can look at you,
and I’d save money without child support;
Come down to Houston and let love renew!
(and help finance a brand-new Kia Sport).
10/7/16
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