You ask me about why I’m wearing this diaper,
I say it’s none of your business,
You say it is,
I say it isn’t,
Isn’t, is, isn’t, is, isn’t, is.

someone on the buffalo transit system once dared me to write a poem that rhymes the word business with…something . I took that bet but by the time it reached my mouth I realized that I was talking to a transient who had shortly thereafter made the same request of the ticket checker as he was being hauled away.


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