There are heartless types abroad, are they not,
those suffering from suburban frigidity
I have overheard, discernible murmurs,
that I tell unbearable gags to visitors,
that I wear a primeval toga on orgy nights,
plus a floral toupee, as befits an overdone puff ,
that my wife is a mummified nincompoop who wears an insane sari
and is guilty of unladylike misconduct,
that I have sired an enigmatic urchin
always reaching for the posteriors of his own parents…
Forgive me, am having a groggy turn
These are mere rumours


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