Written roundabout October 31st 2017,
yet nary a handy dandy blue's clue
Jimmy Neutron Spongebob SquarePants
exists about real or imagined
gal in question, and presumed results
regarding the gal in question
acquiring titular role of poetic subject
most likely more than a few
women can lay claim
to being said person re:
goddess of me what dream in question,

but once curiosity took hold
far between once idea
took hold in me noggin
notion became frozen solid
within sixty shades of gray matter
analogous to being
lodged itself an Igloo
for no less than an eternity
linkedin with cryogenic freezing,
which notion prevalent

among the super rich
spending millions of dollars
to procure heated smart toilet,
and additionally, essentially, and ideally
equipping bathroom with golden plated loo
whereby guests needing to relieve themselves
grunt out insync with effe ****
to expel bowel movement
the primal scream aah and ooh
synonymous to giving birth.

Untold females most likely
share same name sake as poem title;
I knew not what to expect
after googling the following namesake
Matthew Scott Harris did a wake
kin me from temporary stupor,
gasping for air as if affixed with a trach
and on a whim thy fingers
flew to keyboard
butta...please dune hot

**** sitter me a rake
or a *** shoveling
unprintable fu*king expleteives,
which would moost deafen net lee
and rightfully tell me
“go jump in a lake”
(an imponderable superior whim)
but tis not for anything to gain
this extemporaneous poem aye make
but more so, this

ordinary garden variety bumpkin
(or pumpkin I transform into
upon eve of Halloween
politically correct)
nay, tis no exterior, interior,
nor ulterior motive this drake
doth quacking, while wading
in the wide webbed whirled
and hoop fully ja refrain
thinking me tubby some flake

yes, a touch of flattery insulated
within thy body electric,
which caw cajun skin color
presents this being opaque
and the purest motive merely
to convey how flattered
this mortal knowing
an anonymous gal
enjoys the material  
which despite what Trump

or his henchmen/women
might have said
“aint what preceded deep fake”
boot real honest to dogness sentiment
that virtually touches me
to the quick and a whim to make
a rhyming poem found impetus
set to express and converse
without any suspicion, paranoia,
or mild headache.