Your contacts have a tint
In them I see my image
You need a breath mint
Your deadly breath so foul
So toxic, rancid, and rank
Would kill an OWL!
Can this be love, dear,
When I smell your putrid breath
Of garlic and beer?
Turn away your face!
Put a hand over your mouth,
Holy shit, what a case!
What crawled down your throat?
What died in there, a warthog?
I'm starting to choke!
Please give me some hope.
Don't breathe in my face,
Try Dentyne or Scope
Though you may gasp
Over such odious things
This you should grasp:
Because, dear cretin,
Garlic, onions, and beer
You too have eaten
March 2017
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