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Symbiotic
James Bond, is that you? Ever so true. Pecking away, like a woodpecker too?
James Bond? I’m not even blond. But I’m still single. Now and beyond.
What is your angle, your magical trick? Are you repugnant, redundant, or sick?
Symbiotic Bond is my real name. Know-it-all Soup is the reason I came.
Know-it-all Soup. I know the group. What is the reason they asked you to snoop?
Group snoop, I don’t even know it. I came to see you but I’m not a poet.
You’re not a poet, well how do you do? Give me a poet, more pensive than you.
I came to age you, maybe enrage you. Sing me a song, and maybe I’ll stage you.
Your humor is goodly, honest, and fun. Yet symbiotic like Michael Jackson.
Symbiotic, oh no sir, although I’m robotic. I lost my brain to an antibiotic.
Antibiotic to symbiotic. I made the switch to a true alcoholic.
True alcoholics are people less super. You need a budget like Alison Cooper.
Alison Cooper is my favorite swinger. She has the talent but can’t be a singer.
Can’t be a singer? When A. C. is super. She picks me up like the end of a scooper.
I know Mr. Bond, sir. But she is erratic. She is the dice in my old Pop-o-Matic.
Passing us up in an old automatic. No one like her should be locked in the attic.
Copyright ©
Bryan Norton
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