really the pits

her flowing armpit hair
got her many a second stare
and when it was sultry hot
a sniff was greedily sought
from a dozen moons away
men tottered with purses to pay
they’d wash copper at her feet
for a hint of her musky treat
and such was her delicious spell
like drunkards by the road they fell
they’d fight to be the first one to
get happily high on her sweaty glue
aah one dose felt like pure cocaine
and two could drive a man insane
some were zonked enough to kill
anyone who interfered armpit and nostril
between joyous groans and wistful sighs
the lady cleverly upped her price
she chirped “it’s fifty dollars per inhale”
as she raised her arms to a stinky-rich sale
the business woman never gave a discount
whether one came on foot or by mount
whether one had millions or worked on a farm
“cash first” hung bold from her underarm
men moaned by her armpits and wept
as they fell hair-raisingly into debt
the nation cried, the nation rued
and cursed the potion that fetidly brewed
but like a never-forgotten childhood tale
status quo for years prevailed
till one broke but vengeful nosy parker
made good with a Luxor marker
thus Income Tax got a whiff of her braids
and daringly did a reeking raid
they stuck gas masks over their noses
wore cologne vests and held fresh roses
sadly for the missus, she’d never declared
the actual length of her armpit hair
they yelled from far “put your hands up, honey
this ain’t hair but silky black money!”
and as disbelief on her face did hover
they called for a sharp lawn mower.

ram cobain