DOGS WHO LIVE IN GLASS HOUSES (SHOULDN'T THROW BONES)
DOGS WHO LIVE IN GLASS HOUSES (SHOULDN’T THROW BONES)
by David Rutter
Let’s go for a ride in my go-cart
I know this race has been compromised
Booby trapped
Jury rigged
Set to blow
Now that does not mean
We shouldn’t race together
You and I
Let’s throw caution to the wind
Let’s take our chances
What is that you are drinking?
Let me have a taste
Don’t Bogart that drink, my friend
Pass it over here
Mmmmmmmm
Tastes exactly like
Electric liquid rutabaga
You and I can
Share this delicious taste
All damn day
Try and look me in the eyes
Even though
You are only four inches tall
I will put my ear to your lips
Pour me a tiny earful
Of your thoughts
Any real American man
Would not approve
What you do in your doghouse
The true patriot
Looks askance
At what he himself
Cannot physically accomplish
Dreams of competitive cunnilingus teams
Notwithstanding
We can see what you do
I hope you don’t mind
We’ve formed a new society
To disapprove
Of you
Please don’t take it personally
A testimonial of a true relationship–one on one–going full blast to the exclusion of everyone else, who of course disapprove. Social criticism with a keen negative capability edge, together with well-defined broad statements such as “The true patriot looks askance at what he himself cannot physically accomplish.” Well-done.