What in Hell is wrong with you, boy?
All that slimy, oozing, wriggling
Stuff inside your soul ralphed out, framed,
Hung on a wall IN PUBLIC.  What
Were you thinking?  Yeah, the answer
Is already framed.  I’ve got a
Printout of that brunette with her
Cigarette and heels, but I hide
It where my wife won’t find it—I
Keep things decent.  You shouldn’t stick her
In a collage with strippers and
Put it in a gallery.  And
There: a flying pig in papier
Mache! Pork on the wing—it’s just
Wrong.  Someone should tell your mother.
Copyright © 2010 Steve B.  All rights reserved.
Hey, you’re tame.
The Betty Paige thing just proves you’re biological and not call center qualified. I’d not hide it. A feminine woman can be hard to find were it not for art and strip clubs.
. . . and opium dens.