The problem with calling our leader a bugger,
she insisted, was her special fondness
for buggerers, and by implication, what buggery
those buggerers did, not to mention Her Blondeness's
own predilections. The wink said what her
words half did, as did her crossed eyes and muggery.

That was just months ago, and he can't remember
all the epithets, scurrilous and tasty, thus spewing
from her lips and concerning the great leader's member,
its length and girth piss-poor and never doing,
that sort of thing about his thing, a verbal emasculation
he felt himself rise to, as it were, for the good of her nation.

Though in the end, so to speak, she was chagrined
also by him, who could not—even with the promise
of such rewards as she had just implied,
even with her wayward republic itself in the balance—
deliver with wit. Though if you had said what did not happen
was also the president's fault, neither would have denied it.











Used by permission of the author.