It looks like we won’t be going to Georgia
For my birthday, and I understand why.
Because you are Edna,
Lighting your candle at both ends,
Taking life by the balls (or twat),
Pulling it towards you and giving it
The greatest thrill its ever known,
For just a moment.
And I will be Edmund,
Always searching for a poet
And a perfect set of legs,
But never again finding you.
It is this fate which is inevitable,
Just as is knowing you is to fall in love with you.
All I ask of you is this:
Please be careful around the stairs.
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