Friday, March 20, 2009
Open Letter to Uncle Ashraf and Popa Shakes
Dear Uncle Ashraf,
As June 6 approaches, I wonder,
Who are you?
In my dreams you approach me,
7 feet, 8 inches.
Your mustache grows outward,
then towards me.
It envelops me,
By day, when I run, my feet no longer hit the ground to the gentle
Rather, they send up a taunt:
"Un-cle, Ash-raf, Un-cle, Ash-raf."
There are so many myths attached to your name, and I cannot separate fact
Is it true you clobbered the field in last year's 5k?
Is it true you can move mountains with a shake of your mustache?
+ + +
And "Popa Shakes,"
Why do you send your towering sons to mock me with their "questions?"
Am I not a man? If you cut me, do I not squeal like a little girl?
+ + +
Perhaps you ladies would care to join me for a real race?