booger woogie

sneaky eyes scout the room
ah it’s empty as king tut’s tomb
the moment is right, the finger’s ready
the heart flutters with a joy quite heady

the right hand moves up through the air
happy, expectant, without a care
the index finger, stiff as a pole
lustily enters the pleasure hole

excavation begins with a gentle probe
like a palm caressing a woman’s robe
the pace quickens as the finger finds
a biggie to excite both soul and groin

yup, it’s a huge one alright
round, dark and squishy moist
fresh and hot, with little hairs sticking
like ripe peaches ready for picking

rubbery nice, like potter’s clay
it’s easy to shape, easy to play
ah what joy the hand can extend
when there’s a nose that’s willing to lend

proud fingers knead it to a ball
happy as a girl’s first barbie doll
dabbing up pieces of baby snot
for only bit by bit makes a lot

now the party is over, the larder’s bare
the joy’s receding, the evidence stares
but disposal’s easy when the body is able
the hand rubs quietly under the table

behold then, the moral of this story:
“inside each of us lies our glory”
and doesn’t it show that god loves you
when there isn’t one nostril but two?

ram cobain