Blockage Ballad

Because I didn’t listen
While still a lad at school
Many and many an hour I’ve spent
A-straining at the stool.

My father always told me
“Son, get in and get out’s the rule.”
But I sat writing poetry. Now I pay
By straining at the stool.

Bicycling, suppositories,
And enemas warm and cool.
I’ve drunk gallons of prune juice with vodka
Yet I’m straining at the stool.

“My reading I’ll do on the sofa
If I’m in Detroit or Kabul.”
Read those words again.
Save yourself the pain
Of straining at the stool.

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