"You'd wish them
watch me wanting you?
My tell-tale slavish,
shirt-sleeve heart,
in public,
loud-pounding perversely?”
Chewing some such cud
Charlie crossed the Med-School quad
distracted by an a-musing oncologist,
pulled from sour sinuses down
some foul-flavored green-gray phlegm,
impishly aimed toward a scruffed-up crow
grass-seed pecking some eight ten yards away.
Their collected cacophony'd
kept him, crazed, from needed sleep
oft enough to earn this small ignominy
thought chortling Charlie while
along his broad back still subltly felt
the well scrubbed folks
happ’ly munching healthful lunches
might diagnose him dastardly
for such spitful sportsmanship-
so much so
that he pitifully missed the mark,
whispered wicked curdling curses
damning assanine apprehension.
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