image borrowed from bing
“In marriage, the greater cuckold of the two
is the lover.”--Paul Gauguin.
The feisty flathead V-8 sped up as it dropped into overdrive.
It had a thunderbolt on the hood, flames on the side,
a 1950 Ford coupe streaking through the rainy night.
He had to find her, the bitch had lied;
fists clenched on the steering wheel, vengeance to wage--
a broken heart, yes, but pride still had to be saved.
She would be sorry after his angry point was made.
How could she be so cruel with such an angelic face?
There’d be no punching, she wouldn’t need a nurse.
How could such a demon want to be married in a church?
As torn up as he was, he knew she’d soon feel worse;
he wanted to hold her down & crap in her purse.
One thing for sure, he’d get his ring back,
“Becky, you knew better than to treat me like that!”
Posted over on dVerse Poets MTB