Today I got an email from an old neighbour of mine
She wrote to say she missed me and hoped I was doin' fine
A girl for whom in other times I could have held a torch:
A neighbour from the neighbourhood where once I had a Porch.Some of you have read the saga of my crazy landlords
For whom my quiet tenancy was not up to their standards
Although I kept things tidy the relations sure got stinky...
They’ve rented my old awesome pad to three young vapid twinkies.
Their horny son is now in charge of renting out the place
It seems unreferenced barstars shook their boobies in his face.
He thought he might well get some trim, but he was played a fool,
And my Porch is now occupied by a blowed-up kiddie pool.
I hear the twinkies sit in it and tend not to be clad,
They hang out on the Porch and squeal and make the neighbours mad.
My neighbour-friend forgives me, but despises GiggleClan
Because they party every night and cat upon her man.
So though my Porchlife's in the past, here is a minor pain:
My handle is not changeable, so Porchlife I remain.
And though I miss my hangout I'll keep memories in check,
Establish a new paradigm and tell you of the Deck.
The Deck is wide, the Deck is high; the trees keep us well-hidden
The breezes mostly keep from us the smells of compost midden,
And when the sun is shining and the temperature's uncheckèd,
We doff even our underpants and dine there bareassed nekkid.
We hide up in our aerie drinking, happy as you please;
It's rad despite the car alarms and shouted Cantonese.
It's kind of like a tree fort, but my girl is sure allowed:
There's naught like bonking 'neath the stars, above the madding crowd.
And joining us beneath the sky are Cemetery Jack and Squirrelly,
They come out and try to ignore the boobs and short 'n' curlies...
And though Jack is a poofter and the Squirrel's a ball of fluff,
They pretend that they're outdoor cats, all fearless, mean and tough.
They climb up to the roof and think they rule all they survey,
But getting them back down again's a source of some dismay:
Jack is pretty surefooted descending from the heights,
But Squirrelly is a klutz (and probably not very bright).
A downside to the new place is I muchly miss my garden...
I used to grow potatoes, beans, and two types of Swiss charden.
It's sad that now my horticulture's limited to pots,
It's tough for growing vegetables, but flowers, we grow lots.
My little sweetpea seedlings sure are tender little fellas
So I'd taken down the planter with intent to build a trellis...
I'd gone inside to find some string, a hammer and some nails
I returned to the deck to find a thing that never fails.
My unruly little pea plants now are flattened to a mat.
There sacked out in the planter is a smiling little cat.
One moment there were happy plants; then feline Machiavelli!
It seems that crushing baby plants is cooling to the belly.
So now my plants no longer need a thing on which to climb,
Now that they're dead I find myself with Saturday spare time...
An air mattress! A naked girl! A book! A fifth of rum!
My weekend looks about as frickin' awesome as they come!
And now I guess I'll return to my actinically-lit world
Of cubicles and idiots and coffee fit to hurl...
The convoluted plots as dullards climb the corporate ladder
Reveal to me things about life that simply do not matter.
For soon I'll leave this office and this keyboard and this desk,
And think not of the dolts and their competitive burlesque.
The Porch may now be overrun with stupid little chicks;
But now I live the Decklife, with a whole new bag o' tricks.
