The burden of proof

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[EDITOR'S NOTE: Again working under the supposititious name of Wilhelm Ganswrangler, this poem made its way into the Journal for Medicinal and Literative Endeavors in the February edition of 1919. The poem was very poorly received and the Journal never invited Spinke to write for any future issue, putting Spinke in relatively dire financial straits for several months before his founding of his own literary magazine with stolen money from an English banker's foreign investment earnings later that year.]


Habañero Wings

Your skin is like habañero sauce
Not because it’s spicy
Or because it over-stimulates my mucus membranes
Like habañero sauce
But because I am partial to them both

And because habañero sauce often appears
On the outside of a chicken wing
Much like your skin appears
On the outside of your uncooked muscles,
Tendons, bones, fat tissue, veins, etc.

God, my breasts are so perfect
I think that if I sold you
Certain cuts would recoup a very high price
Fore shank and brisket
Short loin and rump

But don’t get me wrong, I wouldn’t sell you!
Who else would tell me she had perfect breasts?
Or have perfect breasts?
We’re socialists anyway
We don’t believe in that sort of thing

You sound like you’re in a cave
And I update you on the habañero wings
That are leaving my digestive system
As we speak
Funny how easily one can distinguish

I love every ounce of you
I tell you over a basket of wings
As we sweat and cry
Try not to let them touch your lips
But I can’t help myself, and it burns and burns

The habañero chile is the most intensely spicy chile pepper
Of the Capsicum genus