RUMOURS

 

RUMOURS

 

 

 

There are heartless types abroad, are they not,

 

those suffering from suburban frigidity

 

I have overheard, discernible murmurs,

 

that I tell unbearable gags to visitors,

 

that I wear a primeval toga on orgy nights,

 

plus a floral toupee, as befits an overdone puff,

 

that my wife is a mummified nincompoop who wears an insane sari

 

and is guilty of unladylike misconduct,

 

that I have sired an enigmatic urchin,

 

always reaching for the posteriors of his own parents...

 

Forgive me, am having a groggy turn

 

These are mere rumours

 

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