“Shampoo Is Not For You”

Six miles downwind lie the dead souls

who dared stand before your putrid stench.

Beyond fly burnished bats as fruity faraway trolls

trample through the locks to quench

their impossible thirst for fresh buttered rolls.

Shampoo is not for you who turns wrench

on oneself and strips the screws from scrolls

written and read by three-fingered French

friars of the underground smellastic holes.