Chip Off The Old Block

CHIP OFF THE OLD BLOCK

aging only to 42 And Counting backwards

AKA Senior with that extra bit of junior chocolate

Keeping it sweet, hard, nutty, and Almost There while running the streets of Cats and Men

like a clock on deadline

Dateline: Dante and Leslie

Know the names don't matter

Not like the labels from a life of sex

Chiseled in wax and 5/4 meter jazz sax

Not like the constant instruction of Erotica 101

the hot spots of joy nursing Big Daddy

Public to some commercial result:

bump it, bag it, fill it

up (like dischord musical Bookends)

Down to Brother Eros' way

to where the X-Factor transports you

to universal maliase

social mayonnaise

spreading euphoria in caring about everything

to Planet Zz

where sleep is not for the tired

but new found unconditional love

and you come to Like Ugly,

the number Thirteen,

utiltarians with hair replacements

because you are a Born Again Virgin

and it behooves you

to Jabberjaws In December, or April, July-whenever-wherever-Tasmania,

Translyvania, Brooklyn

with or without Sex Toys

because you epitomize Patience In Red

blushing to acceptance that

It Never Hurt So Good