What made my exman slip

I, in a man with a pipe,
In a man with a pipe,
With me, a man, a pipe,
In whose which I

Trifle with insides, faith.
Faith! trifled by insides
Insides trifled with by,
By me trifled, faith!, insides

Slip, piss, slup-slush, my!
My-my! Slipping, slushing,
Pissing phlushing flushed
Man-insides. My!

And hence I through-pipe
Through a pipe I hence.
Hence I through my pipe
His hence-pipe my exit hence

My exman slips,
He slipped, and slouches
Slouch my exman
Slips, slouches. My!


Once upon a time, a woman bore a child, but then she got killed by bandits. The bandits were cruel, so they left the child behind, by the side of the road.

That day of birth was windy, and in a particularly blustery gust, the young, squirming infant got blown into a ditch, where he sat in a cold puddle for hours, alternately crying and napping. Such a situation would surely lead to his death, you would think, but nature's bulging bosoms were to nurse the infant.

After some time, you see, a pack of wolves � or maybe coyotes or wolverines, I'm not sure � happened upon the baby and took it with them. They were such kind wolves � or coyotes or wolverines � it only briefly occurred to them to eat the child. Instead, they raised him as best they could, given the differences between the two species.

Such differences were bound to leave the boy with developmental difficulties � it wasn't until age nine that he figured out that he didn't have to walk on all fours � and this late realization, coupled with the lack of social conventions, caused him to walk in a most peculiar fashion, his back curved and hunched like Quasimodo, his legs and arms flailing to and fro most ungraciously.

Similarly, his table manners were atrocious. He would burrow his face into fresh animal corpses just as his family did, clots of carcass clogging his snorting nostrils as he gobbled up innards and intestines and so forth.

Overall, he was an ungainly, indelicate lad, to be sure.

One day, adolescence took hold of his young body, and he got an erection. He wanted so badly to do something with his erection, but he had never seen another human, so that idea never even occurred to him. He looked feverishly at his fellow wolves � or coyotes or wolverines...or maybe beavers (could I have gotten it that wrong?) � but he found the idea of applying this mysterious monolith to the animals distasteful somehow. It was very frustrating � what was he supposed to do with this thing?

Well, he did what most boys will do with it, although his technique was more ungainly and unconventional, having no playground banter to provide ideas for a method. He rocked back and forth passionately, his torso cutting wide swaths through the air; his hands pushed and tugged with flushed fury; his feet rose high into the air and dangled there like a question mark; his toes clenched, whitening his toe knuckles; his eyes opened wide with wonder � eyeballs rolling up and down � then shut tight, then opened wide again; his head whipped around faster and faster, like some insane, amphetamine-fueled gymnast doing neck exercises. Then it was over, as a wet, smelly blob burped and burbled all over his hands and chest.

But still, while this enterprise was quite satisfying, he had the dim impression that he wasn't optimizing the pleasure of this new bodily function. It felt incomplete somehow. So while he was somewhat happy and intrigued by this new bodily development, he was also vaguely sad and discouraged, you see. Poor child.

And even worse, imagine how poor his chances were of procuring sexual intercourse from young ladies once he was discovered by civilized people three years later. It was like an epiphany when he saw those feminine figures; no, he didn�t know precisely what to do with them, but he knew that they were his preferred choice of creature with whom to share his most beloved bodily function.

But none would engage in this popular activity with him. They all found him too strange, and the idea of being intimate with him made them uncomfortable. The only interest he received was from scientists and linguists, and their interest was chaste, save for the leering Dr. Edwards, who was promptly fired when the boy�s uncooperative and unhappy cries alerted the doctor�s coworkers to the similar but socially unacceptable activity that he was attempting to engage in with the boy.

So the boy�s sexual activities were forever restricted to masturbation. For his entire life, do you see? Poor, poor child!


Canvas, dyed blue, with zippers
Rectangular, with a deep centre section
Opens up like a mouth
Gently closes over my clothes, books, pictures
Holds them safe in tender jaws
Ready to spit them out again
Into my tired arms

A convenient handle fastened to the top
Strong enough to carry the heavy weight
Extra pockets on the outside to put small things in
Like little trinkets, once gifts, some broken
A handy tag on which to write my name
And whatever my new address will be
A lock next to the handle, to keep its mouth shut

Don't bother trying to open the lock
I changed the combination
You don�t know it anymore

Your only chance is a stray guess
And you know that's not going to work