My Right Hand
a poem by Wolf Larsen
I like my right hand.
In fact I love my right hand!
It's always there for me,
when I need it.
My right hand is always in the mood and always ready,
And I don't even have to take my right hand out to a fancy restaurant.
All I have to do is go to the sink and wash my hands.
What’s more, my right hand doesn't care if I'm unfaithful
And I can't get HIV from my right hand
Nor will my right hand ever get pregnant
I don't even have to wear a condom!
She's always there for me – my right hand – when I need her,
I love my right hand!
But I don't like to share the love of my life with other men,
And for that reason I often decline to shake hands.
What would I do without my right hand?
Do I really need marriage, mortgage payments, and a messy divorce?
Things are so much simpler with my right hand,
I love you right hand!
Marriage
a poem by Wolf Larsen
Everybody was telling me it was time to get married,
So being a good Catholic I went to the priest and told him I wanted to get married,
"Where's your future wife?" he asked
So I held out my right hand and told the priest "here she is, here's my future wife!"
And the priest yelled at me "marriage is between a man and a woman!" And he promptly threw me out of the church.
So I went to the marriage bureau at City Hall.
I filled out the necessary paperwork and told the clerk I'd like to get married,
"Where's your future wife?" the clerk asked
"Here she is! Would you like to meet my future wife?" I said, offering up my right hand for a handshake.
The clerk laughed at me and told me that marriage is between a man and a woman
Meanwhile, everyone kept telling me it's time to get married.
So then I thought of my neighbor’s dog
Maybe I should marry my neighbor's dog?
After all, my neighbor’s dog is a woman!
And the dog and I are both very fond of each other!
So I borrowed my neighbor’s dog and dressed her up in a beautiful white wedding gown,
And I took her to the priest,
"Can we get married now?" I asked.
"What's this?!" demanded the priest.
"This is my neighbors dog, and she's a woman and I'm a man. Can we get married now?" I asked.
The priest got madder than ever and throw us both out of the church.
"That's no way to treat a dog!" I thought. "What a mean priest!"
So I went to City Hall with my neighbor’s dog to get married,
And you know what,
They wouldn't even let us into the building
"Dogs aren’t allowed!" said the big man in the uniform with the gun
So I went home
But even though I'm still single I think it's better this way,
I pet my neighbor’s dog with my left hand,
And I use my right hand for something else.
(No, not at the same time,
are you people sick or what? Ha ha!)
I get satisfaction from my hand,
And lots of love from my neighbor's dog,
So what should I get married for?
Both poems copyright 2012 by Wolf Larsen