Going Dutch Means You're Ugly

At the top of the hill, so shiny he shat diamonds
Ephemeral jeep, a grin to collect hymens
‘Irascible dope,' I heard on the slope, ‘this time,
You're only as good as your very last beeline.
Going dutch means you're ugly.

The bifida spine pent up like a drum
The spurious queen who says, ‘I'm too much in the sun'
As everything whole must crack with a pining for thunder.

Consider the lilt and how it should better bouillon
Enough of this reenactment of Bull Run
Splendiferousness is only a test, wince now
You're better unfettered by lonesome go-getters (and how).
Going dutch means you're ugly.

It's heaven and earth corralling their ilk
For want of a better cry, gracious milk has been spilt
And everyone knows a bent knee is better than ten full kilts.'

‘Arriving all day' - the clarity sunk in but staggered
The look of the truly smitten: a badge or a scabbard?
But who's he to gag, ‘the balance will sag,' as the ferns blush?
So easily wry when everyone's eyes are on your tush.

Copyright 1994 John Brocato