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Toxicoendendron
- a poem
by Tim Hempfield
HE rubbed his arms;
He shook his waist;
He cooed softly like a dove.
A shiver ran thru his slender form;
And as she approached he began to squirm;
His eyes blinked wildly, -she thought �What charm?�
He rubbed his legs together;
He stroked his neck above;
And then he gave his elbows a shove.
He began to whisper incoherent blather;
His hands folded in a pleadful matter;
And she giggled �Oh, with me he�s in love!�
�Not really, Nurse, -� said the doctor,
�-But I guess you did not know;� ...
�You see, -Timmy has Poison Oak from head to toe!�
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Toxicoendendron is copyright 1997 by Tim Hempfield