Blind Item, in Verse

Before the commencement of a play most raucous
A voice whispered to me, high above the caucus.
It was of a man unseen seven years, maybe more--
And of whom, one should add, the less said, the more.
Still, I was obliged enough to abide him--
Slick smile, yes, yes, that sick smell of skeevy,
Whereupon I espied beside him
A second man, festering and peevy.
"There he goes again," thought I
(Without the I-rony of Reagan),
He's with a boy, as ever, that he cannot buy
Or have
Or love
Or fuck.
A bit of Thespis, a bit of Fagin.

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