Hello
	Mr Rogers
		do you still run that
			prozac
				neighborhood
I used to
	guzzle
		when the kids
			were gullible
				and still impressed
By that
	Tinker Bell
		commuter tram
			to make believe
				where the Princess
					gave me hard-ons
As I wished
	I was a hand puppet taking
		long glances up that dress of hers
			taking virgins
Where no man has
	gone before
But that damned
	postal man
		kept bringin'
			messages before
				my climax
Landed in the fish
	bowl where food is dumped
		just before
			that sweater
Draped the shoulders
	of a formulaic
		end to another
			stagnant episode

(c) 1997 James Oliver Smith, Jr