Won’t you lend your lungs to me?
My spare pair just got punctured.
I’ll return them on Friday
together with those flat feet I borrowed.
Would you like me to wash, iron and fold them
or do you prefer to do that yourself?
I’m afraid I spilled some tar and feathers on them
but I’m sure the stains will wear off
Now that we’re on the subject, may I ask:
Could you lend me a hand perhaps?
Written for #NaPoWriMo day 15. My inspiration was the first line of a Townes van Zandt song that I have always loved for its mysteriousness.