July 17, 2016Bioman, Flash, Poem, Poet, Poetry, The Daily Writ, Uncategorized Leave a comment Cut! Freshly sprayed With aftershave Smelling of Tommy He can barely get The powder up his nostrils Before the novocaine sets in And his hand goes numb Where he cuts His shaver is not available For the work But his dealer Is. Copyright B E Saunders 2016 Share this:TwitterFacebookPrintLinkedInEmailLike this:Like Loading...