Nut Job

I used to be a therapist,

for terrapins and terrorists,

the terrorists made bombs galore,

the turtles crawled around the floor.

 

I used to be a traffic cop,

outside a danish pastry shop,

I lost my grip on trouser size,

and dental bills began to rise.

 

I used to be a one man band,

but found that I was undermanned,

it’s hard to play it all at once,

the passers-by  gave boos and grunts.

 

I used to be a human torch,

but I burned down my girlfriend’s porch,

she sprayed me with the garden hose,

a fair reaction I suppose.

 

I used to make up all these lies,

a necessary job disguise,

to cover up the secret truth,

that I was James Bond in my youth.

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