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    Me and the Old Lady

I split someone's head open today.
It was a fat old lady
Who wouldn't tell me her name.
She stoically slept while I sawed
Through her skull.
"Do you still call these fluffy
Shavings 'sawdust' when it's yellow
Bone that they come from?"
That fat old lady wouldn't say.
I ran my fingers over her brain,
But I guess she wasn't ticklish there.
Being a cadaver must take the fun
Out of life.
Maybe it's just being around
Those white latex gloves.
They leave a cloying, fake, dead smell
On your hands all night.
It's hard to sleep right
With something like that
On your mind.

--Z.T., 22 Sept 1998