How come some men are incredibly surly?
A pleasant remark met with acute acidity
A smile you ask, the response, not hostile surely?
But yes, he turns on me, as though I’m a poisonous viper.
Yet he is young, not a grumpy old man.
What will he be like when old and grey?
I shudder to think, maybe he’ll mellow
And become a pleasant smiling old fellow.
Talking to him, is like toying with a tiger.
His mind is as sharp as a razor.
His words slice like a knife into the subject
Sensitivities spin, as though struck by laser.
I will ask a chemist to make up a potion
To be taken prior to speaking to him on the phone
The second dose to be taken after the call
And when speaking to him, I refuse to be alone.
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