ANTS

I shat myself the other day,
And let it settle there a while,
I done this with a sneering smile,
Then said to my wife, “if I may
Display some biting wit”
“Yes darling…”, and then she sat down by my side
Whilst I my buttons and belt untied,
And said, “I am sitting in my own shit.”
We settled for a quick divorce,
And I was pleased by this, of course;
For then I could do it all again,
And not pretend to be some guy
That shelters women from the rain
And stops in the street to say hi.
I could sit in my own shit
Again, and call over my new wife,
She would come over and see it,
Then I would be out of her life;
Then I would be pleased to have ruined
Our existence,
For I think it is pathetic,
All of these marrying instincts.
I would rather marry ants,
At least they are going somewhere,
And don’t cry over their hair,
And I could shit in my pants.