Phased though I may be
by the things that worry me
I rhyme pleasantly.

So? I know that this
call to suss out, to reminisce
can fail to bring bliss.

I know studies show
more than I could hope to know
or even follow.

Lately I stand guard
for fear of thinking too hard
on sympathy cards.

Underneath the arch
I researched the way to march,
ended up (groan) parched.

"V," I said to you,
employing what poets do
to hide while they woo,

"Up on top of this,
(if we climbed up) you could piss
and still rhyme with 'kiss.'"