Sunday, October 13, 2013

The Brothel Manager

A charming man of six feet two,
Clean shaven and a crooked tooth,
Prepared for us nightly a perfect brew,
Outside our rooms he had his booth.

He would welcome all with an honest smile,
Some from near, some from more than a mile,
But they would look right through him,
And charge into our rooms on their whim.

Our drawers would always be full of them -
Protection to keep our lives sane,
Also sometimes a peppery spray would stem
From the corner, when he knew en route was Mr. Bane.

Alas! Such a manager did not exist,
Well, if he did, I would fall in love with him,
Counting every breath, death I resist,
Oppressed with disease, I pray for my kith and kin.

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