Driving down I-94 with my finger up my nose
digging away at a booger; I don't care who knows

Mr. Smartypants pared his fingernails this mourning.
Neatness can be a curse when you need something

to hook the damn thing. I've used up a box of Kleenix
blowing and blowing, anything for a fix

Cars to right of me, cars to the left, cars ahead of me
and cars behind; They're all looking and there's more to see

The thing is wedged in there good, all the way up to my eye
If I don't get it out of there soon, I think I may die

of embarrassment if nothing else. A kid is looking out the back window
You'd think this was the first day of winter and I was snow.

I stop long enough to stick out my tongue at him and then I sneeze
Free, free at least; the booger is loose and the world sees

it hanging there; I knocked the Keenex box over by the door
there's nothing to do but use my sleeve to the lady to the left's horror.

I've been turned down for a date by the prettiest girl in school.
I've fallen asleep on my desk in school, waking up in drool.

My mother caught me masturbating when I forgot to lock the bathroom door.
But nothing was as embarrassing as what's crumpled up on the floor.                                                Mystery Writer