162. parting shot
she told me
I was aberrated
which I thought was nice
as she never had
a good word for me
when we were together.
besides,
I rather like the moniker
– a square peg in a square hole
fits so tight
it keeps out all the dross
& desiccated derelicts
like you
my lovely,
so pretty in pink
that even your farts
smell of roses
or so you think.
an aberration
is a badge of honour,
reader,
so wear yours with pride
and, if you dare,
whisper it’s nature softly
before you go.