wanky birthday to you

If your mum is a hippy, you don't get a Mega Drive for your birthday. Some jewellery made of bat guano, perhaps? A giant bean curd patty? Well, Stacy got a poem. She had said she quite liked the thought of a poem, but once she had read it she left it on the table and went off crying to her room. In a way it was so you To be pushing on my bladder Kicking me from inside But I embraced the natural way of the cosmos You put me in touch with the agony-ridden she-wolf and the sadness of the moon I pictured the face of Ganesh As I pushed you from my uterus You were angry wrinkled blue covered in cheese but I forgave you I see you now and think of that sickly bug-eyed pale thing suckling my teat and I wish your hair would behave but you are more than looks to me

The megadrive Stacy didn't get for her birthday