I found them on the bathroom floor
after my cousin and her boyfriend
left for Ithaca. They were green
with gold stripes and they weren’t
mine.

Some pronounce it poim.
Like it has an oy inside it.
The way an oyster
has an oy inside it. The way
all poems ought to have
a little oy vey
and a little oyez! oyez!
inside them.

So my friend Phil is telling me how he can’t get a date how he loves women and how they’re always giving him looks so I ask him what kind of looks so he winces at the beautiful braless young woman passing by at that particular propitious moment giving her a look of such longing

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