The last act of the evening
promises not much,
seems out of touch,
his mind elsewhere

but then,
like there's nothing to it
he surprises the yawns
with a super-hero gag

TongueMan,
with his superior
sense of taste

capable of detecting the
smallest particles
and determine future actions

'One day,
he gets out of bed, walks to the bathroom, takes a piss, splashes water on his sleepy face,
looks in the mirror - perplex he smacks his lips one or twice, the eyes pop out and he screams:"Honey, are we going to have a baby?" '

I don't know about you
but about leaving...
I was ready.