The Nasty Movie-Man

Footsteps lace my weary head

Ragged with his span.

“Now for something different” said

The Nasty Movie-Man.


He stays the while of one full moon

He keeps me up in bed.

And with untimely relish, loops

The ugly things I said.


I hit my duff in front of you

Upon the marble ground

From slipping on some crafting glue

That has no sticking sound.


I criticize the bouillabaisse

At the wedding of monsieur

As the string quartet goes quiet

To heed my screeching slur.


I know one day he’ll leave me, but

I’m anxious that I can

Never hear the door lock shut

Behind the Movie-Man.



The End

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