We were not friends by choice.
Our parents became lumped in little lanes,
And us as offspring became mutually familiar
Through school and church and sleepovers.

Do you remember when Mandoza menaced?
I was under attack – alone and helpless.
Amidst all of the guffawing giants,
Et tu, Iron Horse. No – after all, it cannot be.

Always one to swim against the shaky tide of confrontation,
You forced me against noble nature, filling me with burning questions.
In your defence, you justified yourself most artfully,
Leaving me unconvinced at your failure to apologise.

“*******!” Oh, that felt so good!
Not as good as it felt lifting me in the air, I’m sure.
Iron Horse, you kicked really well with your sturdy steel stirrups,
Deadly intent on the ****, but interrupted suddenly.

Is this the sanction for freedom of speech?
Think your blows are going to quell my venomous tongue?
Take the weekend to lick off your wounded ego –
I’ll spend my time sharpening my pink, wet sword.

Say, maybe on Sunday we can hang out?
Your mom’s margherita is killer – the best in town.