The Cro-Magnon magnate
of sponge cake diversity
reared his ugly head last night,
just as I’d exited the bath.
I said “begone, damn caveman!
Get out of this place!”
The tremors in my voice
betrayed my cool exterior.
Wearing a towel at the time,
I had no use for losing any more
credibility.
He leapt once, stood still–
leapt again and planted himself;
scratched the small of his back.
After some minutes of this,
he began looking around as though
he’d never seen the place before
(even though he’d clearly been there
for some minutes).
What a nut,
I couldn’t help but think to myself.
WHARVED 