Ode to the Frequent Flier
Wryly eyes glare sneakingly
crost rooms, and halls, and doorways
Ne’er-do-well, pray do tell
What dark intent doth you bring?
Slither, slip around and under
Stony hearts and minds.
Nay, they soft, naive, aloft
The souls you seek to plunder.
Seek ye roiled poppies spew
A limp, a gimp, a forc’ed tear
Marked and meek, a gilded speak
From whence you’ve come, a rock or pew?
Be gone, be wary, I know thee well
No saint be you, forsaken
Legions o’ visits, archives exquisite
Whilst parlay yourn demented spell
Hippocrates bequeathed to me
One solemn oath non asunder
Yet there ye be, hypocrisy
Obliged we be, and ne’er be free
So we dance; thorny, epithets adorned
Fencing to, aback, and fro
‘Tis time you leave, so frantically?
Aye my flier, there’s the door.