Miss Tankerskank by Julius Motal

I resign myself to the tavern,
A small building in a large town,
At the corner of To and Fro.

There I meet Miss Tankerskank,
The mistress of timeless joy,
In pocketsize shape and form.

Miss Tankerskank unzips my pants;
A lion jumps forth from my loins,
A region of undying gratitude.

Hastily, but surely, I giggle softly
While Miss Tankerskank reaches in
To feel around the trees and grass.

Her hand clasps the trunk of elm.
Miss Tankerskank recoils quickly
As the elm bit her hand tenderly.

Gently patting her on the head,
I usher Miss Tankerskank inside
My sprawling forested loins.

Screaming as she goes in,
Miss Tankerskank stares in awe
As the heavens above her go black.

I sit down next to my lion,
As shades of green and blue and purple
Encapsulate my senses in a rush.