& where to tender my Catullus now,
to you dear John, my 10-speed bankrupt, Forbes?
The brave so soon become the editors
& scandal fucks but quarterly by vow;
I’ve bought the drinks before so you’ll allow
submitting this one poem without cause,
about how flailing whales all know a pause
between your bike & pavement. Take a bow,
addled young elephant, or take this bribe:
if you can pedal those on fairer game,
my fiscal sonnet ‘notes on creditors’
sees life in Phoenix Review. I’ll subscribe
to Scripsi, John, or even once again
till payday call that thirty dollars yours.