To Smalls
(upon learning of his skating mishap)

For lo these many months I've longed to see my fair annointed,
And now yer elbow's come disjointed.
From a youthful, brash activity
I've avoided since nativity.

Now I bet you wish you were anywhere,
That don't have socialized medical care.

What is it with the British that they all sound so endearing
I think I may be nearing
A visit to that island nation
Ready me for debarkation.

Worry not, it won't be soon
The district court calls another tune.

I remember the first pic you sent
Turned out to be a fake one
And when you condoned to make one.

You put yourself upon the scanner
In a most unorthodox manner.

Yet since the images have flowed
In floods upon my hard drive stowed.

You talk in such mellifluous tones
So pleasing to my ear.
I omit so many consonants
You seem to think that dear

But my language you'll adore
Once I read of Maldoror.

So rest now, and your injuries nurse,
And with charity await more shitty verse.