January 18, 2011; Plaint From a Broken Heart

To a Beloved O'er the Ice

Through the snow and o'er the ice

Lives a bitch who's really nice.

"Nice" however's a weakling word,

For this thing who's like a bird!

They say of her, "Oh! She's a whippet!"

Who cares? her skinny tail, I'd flip it,

And my nose 'neath deep I'd dip it,

Hoping my dog dick she'd nip it.

She loves me so, almost to madness.

Our distance causes her such sadness.

Each time she sees me there is gladness

And much delight t'ward all my badness.

I see her and take out my lexic.

The reason is she's anorexic,

And seems just a bit dyslexic.

Nevermind - she makes me sex-sick.

She is all these bones and pointy.

But in her eyes I'm an apointee,

Of her sect I'm an anointee.

Please, dear heart, pull on my jointy.

When she barks it's kind of yippy

But it makes my heart go skippy,

And my head gets sort of dippy

For that body, good and whippy.

My lovely's name is odd; it's Twiggy.

E'en the name makes poor me wiggy.

It also makes my little'n' biggy

And plumbs from me my inner piggy.

Why, oh why?, must we be parted

Now that winter's snows have started.

Back into the house she's darted,

Running from me like I'd farted.

Someday, someday'll come the spring

And I'll hear my whippet sing,

Calling out for Leo's thing,

Calling for the blaze he'll bring!

I'll run to her my heart so full

And into my love her I'll pull.

But now nothing can nor ever will

Take from me this bitter pill.