There are 54 cards in a deck,
And only twelve are royalty.
I feel sorry for the folks
Who are stuck as a two or a three.
I wondered what card I was:
I’ve not the talent to be an ace,
And I’m really not a joker.
Would I ever find my place?
And then strolling down the sidewalk
I found eight diamonds on the ground,
So I sold them. Now I’m rich
And I don’t worry about this crap anymore.
I crack the fortune cookie
And read read the wisdom within.
“Today, be careful of breaking things.”
Cookie talent must be wearing thin.
I wonder if pants are perverts,
Delighted by their jobs,
Or whether some are picky
And are nether-region snobs.
And how do skirts and dresses
Differ from their legged kinds?
I imagine they are similar,
But with much more open minds.
And what of kilts and leggings?
Of loincloths and codpieces?
What difference is the length and style
Of those modesty-guarding fleeces?
Perhaps I’ll never know the musings
Of my lower body clothing.
I just hope their destiny
Is something they aren’t loathing.
Filed under Poems
The Daily Travesty 