Young men today feel they must be six
feet tall, make six figures and have six inches
downstairs to get with any basic binches
whose blonde ambitions won’t put up with dicks
or dudes too small and weak to make the Knicks:
picky as cats and flighty as flocks of finches,
they will eschew the sexual-nuptial cinches
of poor short men with decent politics,
a loving nature, kindness, murderous rage
that they were once passed over for the prom,
a perfectly normal love of firearms,
a set of calipers with which to gauge
which race should rule the rest, a wonderful mom
who’s reassured it’s no call for alarm.