Maturing in Love by Rhizome Olivia Quondam

Chirp over to Christ

I telling you:

My baller, gentleman caller, pulled up in an Impala

He pulled down his Levi's for leviathan in his breeches

We got hot and heavy in the Chevy

He pulled out in a Hummer buzzing the birds and the bees

It told him:

With your toothpick schtick, ya ain't no Kentucky Gentleman

Smooth-talking me outta a booth but ya ain't no Bourbon Street

Ya Smirnoff my lipstick with your Hennessey hearsay heresy

He told me: Barrels of fun, Virginia is for Lovers

I told him:

I'm sleeping in teddies; you can be my bear

With you beside me, with you inside me

Talk your crock

I want your poppycock

And I don't, and I won't, have to say anything

I know that you know when and how to toot my horn

I telling you:

Down and dirty, he flipped me the birdy

Left me with his Plymouth Road Runner and a rum runner

I tell you:

Since then, since him, I've found a higher power, never lowering my life

But he chipped his wings hooting cooties and missed his flight outta Timbuktu

Since he wasted his last phone call to cry for help, just as a Christian courtesy, I'm tweeting for one of y'all, who're more merciful than me, to bail him out