A Pedal-Pusher Said to Me

A pedal-pusher said to me   
No braykaiser   
No sterfput   
A-stepping and a-stoumping cretin-wise   
Could drive a man to madness   
Just as no thousand Orphas all draped in damp peignoirs   
Doing their great kochera   
With the prima donna   
Of Iquzegdamoda   
Of Paczevast   
Of Anunec   
Each Orpha in an evening gown   
Imploring of our pedal-pusher   
To go a-step and go a-stoump all over yet again   
With a thousand mops   
And a thousand sterfputs imploring them   
The braykaiser in me   
The sterfput in me   
The mop in me   
The kochera in me   
The Paczevast in me   
The Anunec in me   
The Iquzegdamoda in me   
And all the stoumpers   
The steppers   
The mops   
The evening gowns   
And all the Orphas   
All the pedal-pushers   
The damp peignoirs   
The cretins   
The prima donnas   
Who beg   
The kocheras   
The Iquzegdamodas
The Anunecs   
And all the Paczevasts   
To step   
And to stoump for the sake of love   
The great flowering love   
Of a thousand pedal-pushers   
A-draped in damp peignoirs   
Will lead no braykaiser   
No sterfput   
No mop   
No kochera   
No Paczevast   
No Anunec   
No Iquzegdamoda   
To implore a man to madness   
And that is what a-stepping and a-stoumping cretin-wise   
A pedal-pusher said to me

Source: Poetry (April 2009)