6 · Mess
He draws himself up, as if playing a part, And his words squeeze forth like the sneakiest fart: ‘We were all there, so it’s no use pretending. We made this mess that seems so unending.’ ‘So you wish to deny it; I see that you would, But I insist that you listen, and you certainly should!’ He beckons you over, as if in cahoots And you cover your nose at the smell of old fruit. ...