Owner’s Risk

A calm football on the carpet, boom,
Cried a man with a flip slip disk.
A coy girl’s cootie in a concert, rock,
Rocked a skinny boy in a skeletal brisk-

The boy’s got a job for jabbering mambos-
Jumbos, peculiar to the prison shifts,
The jailor’s manner was at a moronic best-
Asked the boy out for his glazing lips.

The boy turned out to be a tingly doh-man,
Tossing and turning, a tantrum prick-
In a hinged bed, in a horrible blather-
Hearing heartbeats that made him sick.

Wiggling boy, oh so, scissorly waxed-
Woody foot wandering, a leisurely frisk,
This world, wacko, ain’t a worthy place
Parking, only at owner’s risk.