Large Fierce Mammal

Inspiration can strike anywhere at any time, and this is why I go nowhere without a way of quickly recording those transient thoughts that often turn into what you read here. My trusty and decidedly olde school field notebook is never far away, and when Mrs. LFM is with me, she is ever ready to employ cel phone voice recorder technology to catch what bubbles to the surface of my strange and industrious imagination. It is this latter advantage that permits me today to offer you an unprecedented opportunity – to hear an LFM poem at its moment of birth.

One night last week, I returned to the living room with glasses of wine in hand in preparation for watching a movie, and told her what I thought to be a fragment of poetry had just come to mind that I needed to make note of before it evaporated.

“Do you want me to record it?” she asked.

“Yes!” I replied as I sat down on the couch beside her.

I asked her to give me a moment to compose the utterance, and then spoke the words you will hear. She had no idea what was coming and her reaction is completely and delightfully spontaneous. It was only when I turned to her to say I was ready that I saw the phone in her hand and realized she must have gotten it on the first take. Hence, my own comment, and in the silence that answered it, she was trying to regain her breath while nodding her head. The soft sounds you will also hear were made by our now nearly one year old SFM who doesn’t yet understand ribaldry, but is the product of it and whose time of epiphany will come, embedded in his DNA as I know it to be.

Waste no more time now, Goode Reader, and click here to witness the veracity of my words.

In conclusion, unaltered, here is the finished product. A ribald two liner that came to mind for no other reason , it seems, than my constant drive to entertain my Wife and hear the wondrous music of her laughter. Of all the exquisite sounds my talents can draw from her lips, her laughter was the first, and will always be high on the list in the abundance of her most treasured gifts to me.

The Centipedes

By LFM

Sex among the Centipedes must be worst there’s ever been.
When your lover has a hundred legs, which two to go between?