Adding Insult to Injury
Wouldn't you know it? I come to my senses
and realize I'm lying on a heat grate
somewhere downtown on 7th Avenue,
totally butt-naked. Luckily,
nobody seems to care, or even notice.
(It's still New York, after all.)
Along comes this talking dog.
He tries to sell me a cheesy print
of Whistler's Mother (which I've never liked).
He has a whole stack of them piled high
in a little red wagon he's dragging around.
I figure I can sort of cover up with one
until some Good Samaritan happens by
with a terry cloth robe or a spare pair of Bermudas.
But I'm broke and the dog won't spot me the $9.99.
"Do I look like I was born yesterday?" he growls,
and trots away, tail in the air, leaving me
with an unobstructed view of his asshole.
Avoiding Unsafe Sex
As I was parking my car
one sunny winter day last year I saw
a mangy little dog humping a filthy snowbank.
He looked up and caught me watching,
and I could swear I heard him snarl,
"What are you looking at, Chief?
Go find your own action."
Good advice, but I decided against it.
All the other snowbanks were filthy too.