Little Miss RSVP

Quit
helicopter
vigilantiuncling, pal. These
nieces and the nephews now
gushing forth wow, pouring out
of the pool
from which, dripping
your oh-so-tight genes first sprang

are alright. It's you
slipping. They

have got the hang

from the chandelier, to the
balcony, one swashbuckling big,
banned swing to see, so far,

so clear! So step

hard, to the floor and make it bounce,
floor, bounce! As the old-school man
you've become leaps and bounds, oh
decrepitly pathetic in halfelderly ways
that must be seen, simply can't
be explained these days, not by honorable
means, to the ends that never failed
our fathers like they're failing today,
fadeaway, you burnout case. But!
Still! You do amaze, in your quaint
embrace of begotten benighted chivalric
standards deemed ominous and heralding
naught
but crosses of azure, in
fields d'argent, filthy lucre'd up
in bars most sinister, haunts
most Scooby-Doo corny, by now
just unmask. It was you all along.
You weren't tricking anyone
but the stoner's, dog. Chad,
Stacy and their maniac
pixie geek mutual ex
are not impressed in
these right
-brained, left-handedly
complimentary

eye roll days, dazed as we
are, oh,
we won't ask. But do tell! Lo,
who goes? And Hark! How they groan
and blindly but firmly, fairly grope
and grow, even
in your storied and legendary
epic bedtime tellings
of them, its beginning to show.

Well, OK
then, smoke
'em if you got 'em, grandpa. Blow it
up, up and us far and away, regale us
with your eldritch sour anecdotal zephyrs
and mastery of antique dance moves. Whichever.
Redounding to your credit - as they
immeasurably don't, gay as thank you, please
how it pleases you, only too well
done, as we roast, to a turn
into a frolic with capers -
tonight's special, isn't it?
Burn. Wow.

Call the papers. What
a stunt.

You've seen the need before now, so

hey.

what do you want

and who ARE you?

Man, I think you got the wrong reception
or something.

these are not your moral relatives

You cutting out? I'm losing you can

you hear me now? Oh,

piss damn screw. You can.

Hold my beer, I'll hold the door hey

let us adieu

perchance,

to just in time,

beat the deadline, that grew
in agency, mutually urgently gasping
for you in sighs, and
in pants, yearning

to be no more free
than what could one expect, so

long overdue,
some ass finally cashed the blank check
your heart can't remember writing! Caught!
horribly hard in the nick,
in time, to submit
the bans

that just about
perfectly
fit

the complete and perfect seizure
we so suddenly plan
to commit.