What is this thing called sex, Dad?
Quizzed, my curious ten year old lad.
Soft music stopped, party-chatter froze,
Menon jolted from his drunken doze,
The pudding hit Mrs.Thomas's chin,
My boss's face beamed a whisky grin,
Be a shport, Hari, you bumbling ass,
Liquour spilled from his brimming glass,
Tell the boy of the birds and the bees,
Of Adam-Eve, the birth of babies,
To you, my friend, yes, you the reader,
I must admit, I am no great leader
Nor much of a father, you may surmise,
I am not a fool, but neither too wise,
To have told the kids of the facts of life;
Of what gets done, when man meets wife.
It may have been the beers in me,
Or the fact that I could nowhere see
My wife, within any earshot length,
That must've been what gave me strength.
Species Enlarging X-ercise, said I,
Looking my boy straight in the eye,
Something we do to populate,
Strip, stimulate and copulate.
Simply Ecstatic X-perience, quipped Ted,
And smacked his lips - the sly newly wed.
Superbly Erotic X-cursion, Joe, thirty-one,
Raised his beer and added, Ah, what fun,
Sweaty, Enervating, X-hausting, Iyer, mid forties,
As an afterthought warned, And causes disease.
Slight Erection - X-hilaration! Nair, sixty-plus,
That's what sex is for grandpas like us.
But, Dad, cried my boy in despair,
He showed me a form, a questionnaire,
Please tell me how to get all that in
This little box marked - Your sex, fill in.
Hari Kumar