I’m a Man

I like my milkshake without lumps,

I like my camels without humps.

Doors that open from all four sides;

clothed whores and naked brides.

I have files and folders in my head,

I have exactly one loaf of bread.

Graphs, grids and sixty nine flowcharts;

I draw squares and circles – not hearts.

But then you walk into the room,

your lips apart, your voice a boom.

Your body a map of deep blue curves;

the burning loins of a hundred pervs.

Straight lines quietly conspire a circle,

close upon Reason with a chuckle.

Push me off my pointy cliff;

ring the bell, call for a tiff.

Colours collide, cry foul and fake,

in my heart – a sigh and an ache.

Files and folders are torn apart;

a sly guffaw straight from the heart.

There’s a quiet chaos, I’ve got to say.

Wearing pink is no longer gay.

There is no bulb that’s not a fan;

Gosh darn it, I am a man!

I am a man, so roll with it.

Let it ensnare your mind bit by bit.

They’re both the same – Dick and Puss.

So suck it up, you fat-lipped wuss.