Who except Spenser’d dispense Amoretti?
Why has Gastoldi not sold more balletti?
Who’d buy? Veronica? Jughead? (Not Betty.)
Still, ready or not, here I come.
How many cascades of chill’d
cappelletti,
half-baked by Frank Drake and Carl Sagan
of CETI,
got hurl’d by Francesca di Foix’s Donizetti?
(You bled? Where’s the clot on your
thumb?)
Why did young Esther, whose nickname is
‘Etty,’
begin to befriend Renee Jeanne
Falconetti?
Hey! Was it because of her sub-standard
Freddy?
Don’t fret: she could not hear the drum.
Where might a sculptor – let’s say,
Giacometti –
constructing a bust of Maria Goretti,
rough-hew Mrs. Wainthropp, that slue foot
sleuth Hetty?
Our shed Giaco’d not use...the bum!
How do Italian boys’ words – like ‘indetti’ –
(some few misconstrue ‘em as ‘drench’d in
confetti’)
wind up meaning “dinghys you’ll find
near the jetty”?
(‘Ka-ret-i’?
‘Ka-rat-I’? Both dumb.)
Who switch’d initials? Did Lester (call’d
‘Ketty’)?
Or was it perhaps Woody’s kid sister
Letty?
Each ‘K’ is ambiguous. (‘L’s are
already.)
(Go steady…but not wid’ me mum.)
Who unstrings harps with a whetted
machete?
(Gone: proslambanomenos, mese
and nete.)
Demolishes “Nola” and “No, No, Nanette,”
he.
Fast Eddie! Him! (Not me,
in sum.)
How did Ted Hughes, with his used
Olivetti.
misspell the word ‘pretty’ by spelling it
‘petty’?
My thought? He’s exhausted his ‘R’s, has
our Teddy.
(Ted’s dead: he got shot in a scrum.)
Who’ll perform bass in The Tuba Quartet?
He
who does
is (or was) he who read the
libretti.
The man who both can must needs prove rough and ready.
(No bed! Just a cot. He’ll succumb.)
What’s the expected next keyword?
‘Spaghetti’?
Italian musicians anticipate ‘stretti.’
(Most feel ‘f**k and c**k-s**k are wa-a-a-ay too “Tourette-y”
and set free the rotters and scum.)
Who’s Moses’s step-mother’s bro? Uncle
Seti?
His offspring in Venice propel
Vaporetti.
The water by volume displaced stirs an
eddy.
And, ready or not, here they come.
Which monk had spare spunk to pen Vision of Wetti?
(No word so absurd there as ‘xebec’ or
‘xetti’ –
nor mention, of course, of exotic
Arletty,
though, ready or not, here she comes.)
And, lest
we forget: the abom’nable yeti,
who savors his ziti, pronouncing it
‘zeti,’
and, like me, a fan of the odd alphabet,
he.
And, ready or not…
But I’m done.
