I should stop wearing jeans so much, likewise this flannel shirt. I need to wear more dresses and occasionally a skirt. I must start wearing makeup and occasionally a frilly blouse, just in case Paul McCartney ever shows up at my house.
I must get rid of these glasses
even if my vision is blurred;
these ugly frames make me look
like some kind of bookish nerd.
I’ll get contact lenses
even though they’re a conceit,
just in case I meet Paul McCartney
walking down the street.
I must cut down on ice cream,
French fries and potato chips,
so if Paul McCartney ever comes to town
I’ll no longer have these unsightly, chubby hips.
The news comes on the radio —
Oh no! Do my ears deceive?
This is tragic news that
I simply cannot believe!
THAT BASTARD MARRIED SOME BROAD NAMED LINDA! — Jeff Barnes
