Ham whittling for beginners

ham-whittling

I hate it when you're stoned
(I miss you so)
don't do that anymore
unless we're playing hippies
on some remote and duned shore

I hate it when you flirt
(you hair-touch, you fiend)
the shock of feeling
my patient faith recede
toes curling till they bleed

I hate the sound of my whine
obsessing on what's good
for me what's bad what's
preoccupying this next
line

I hate whittling away
at this block of ham
it reveals The Boy David as
the gurning goitre'd harridan

that I am.