a harelipped man walked into a liquor store and walked up to the proprietor and said gimme a bottle of gin.

and the proprietor said to himself  "why THIS dumb *******. I'll have some  fun with him!"

He said "What kind  would you like?"

"You mean theres more than one kind?"

"Yessir theres 3"

"What are they?"

"Hydrogen, Oxygen and Nitrogen"

"Thats right" Said the harelip.

and theres three kinds of turds too.

"What do you mean?"

"Mustard. Custard. AND YOU YOU BIG SACK OF ****!"

inside Elvis’
digital pompadour
there’s a
constitutional oligarchy
and a harelip
and
you watch
from the corner of
your eye
as he scratches
deep inside there
and sniffs at his
fingertips
and
turns to his
girl and says
how it’s
oh so redolent
of the eggs
of silverfish
and that Evel Knievel’s
cologne
was never
so sweet

Vote my fist, the ship lists starboard

Nautical twist, birthed sideways

Harelip lisp, tender hearted doe-eye

Little boys cry for scraped knees

Come here, please, and tell me

about it

Troutin', somewhere upstream

Go low and then lean,

smiling and clean and soap on teeth

Somewhere beneath your heart,

a switch to restart,

the whole process.