By Stuart Shea
I was watching a game
But got Penthouse instead.
A Chatwood? A Dinkelman? They’re not reassuring–
they both sound painful,
though perhaps alluring.
It’s just like the old days, when we’d annoonce
That the Sox had a player named Rusty Kuntz.
Published in Players, Pure doggerel, Scandals, Stu Shea, Youth | Link to this poem | 3 Comments