by James Finn Garner
Elvis Andrus’ new tattoo
Made his arm go loop-de-loo.
Th’ inked portrait of his paw
Left his arm and bicep raw.
‘Pon returning from the dead,
Once he’d slapped him up the head,
Emilio, his dad, would say,
“Cut this crap — go out and play!”
Sad Dad
Before you go and get that ink
Take it slow and stop to think
Your tattooed kin could be a drag
When aging skin starts in to sag
As you grow old, not in the pink
Emilio will drop and sink.