Poetry Corner: When Throwing a fastball at old Kevin Youkilis...

When throwing a fastball at old Kevin Youkilis,
Make sure that your fingers aren’t slathered with mucilous.
Don’t stare at him hard, or it could make you puke-ilous.
But just ponder the past, like that Met: “Wilson, Mookilus.”

It’s not an occasion to grow mad and mutinous,
Like a trip to a crypt with an urge necrophilious,
Just imagine yourself down below in a nautilus,
And shoot that harpoon at the whale we call Youkilis.

In your moment of weakness, you’ll feel supercilious,
As he stands there and glares at you, angry and bilious,
Like a six-foot-three lizard, some man-crocodilius,
Throw as hard as you can at that man, Kevin Youkilis.