Green Cologne

Only the green cologne for me,
the last bottle at the end of the shelf,
the important half-gallon size.
Effective as aspirin, I laugh,
potent as electrocution,
it’s pitched in manly truth:
its pungency caught me a wife
quicker that cablevision,
and my son now emulates me,
scaling toiletseat and sink
to attain the green nectar,
annointing himself and the cats,
baptising toothbrush heads,
exploding our home
with piney, limey genius.

Think what you want.
I have more friends.
I am something
not even I can describe.
I bend oncoming automobiles
with a splash of green charm.

First published Into the Teeth of the Wind (II.2-3, 2001).