Whatever it might mean,
I don’t want anything to fly
off the handle when I float
the news into your ear canals.
The messenger is never to be shot
by the recipient, for the fatal assault
would label the assailant
with cowardice for the rest of his life,
you hear me? That means years
in soiled jumpsuits and bland meatloaf for lunch.
I’m keeping my eye on you, Brutus.
What are you, 250 pounds? Jesus, you’re huge!
I might go buy a police bullhorn
so I can give you the news from a block away.