The Swiss Army Word    by  Bill Pitt

Brownie told the story of the biker who pushed his Harley around
into Brownie's barn one time and started pulling it apart.
Brownie met the man with his motorcycle in pieces
on the floor of the barn.

Brownie told me the story he must've told a hundred and fifty
times easy; his eyes rising to their practised delight as he set
the little jewel of the man's only conversation in the fluid metal
of grammar and syntax.

No introduction, no explanation, no nothing;
the man just looked up at Brownie,
his world in pieces, and said,
'The fucking fucker's fucked'.

© Bill Pitt