this friend of mine
is too refined
for these uncivilized times
he wears cufflinks and ties
his shoes are shined
he walks a straight line
he sings his songs
and writes his rhymes
and drinks his beer
but pines for wine
he feels just fine
when his girls a dime
but if she’s a nine
well thats a crime
so he spends his time
alone at home
I wonder if he
bemoans this poem
but I dont care
im having fun
I think i’ll write
another one