How strange
are hearts
of men..
how fickle.

Over some
utterly ineffable
aortic tickle..
they either fail
to recollect
or else feign
to forget..

The reasons
why they used to call you
their most trusted ally
and their closest friend.

Alas, when methods
of the carrot fail..
there always is
the trusty loving
of a Skinner stick.

A hearty boink or two
upon the noggin’
tends to jog the memory..
of any ye run of the mill
and ornery to Death
of Richard Dicks.