Tobacco to Ashes, Dust to Dust,
All Iron Men Eventually Rust
Will de Kypia

My Dear Leopold,

I have received your letter informing me
that you are currently bedeviled by an
unholy host of corporeal afflictions.

Several of them serious.

First, I must tell you how distressing
it is to discover that my oldest pal and
trustiest wingman is falling apart like this.

Lurching miserably down to his dismal end
with barely the strength for a good last piss.

We were two fiends on the road to Hell,
boon companions both enjoying the ride.

Raging together, sharing a cup, always
in motion and usually against the tide.

It's appalling to learn how fast and
how far my fellow fiend has fallen.

You have become a bloated boozehound
so lethargic you are virtually housebound.

Alcoholic, impotent, incontinent, pathetic.
Indisputably, certifiably, and officially old.

The joints are froze up, the guts gone sour,
failing eyesight has made you sell your car.

Each day means another cruel vivisection.
Night's torment does not make you whole.
Dawn brings a pain-wracked resurrection.

Oh, where is the life living your life stole?

The letter contains a lengthy enumeration
of the dietary and behavioral measures
—of the rather draconian measures—
the medico gurus deem necessary to
manage your oh-so many maladies.

Leopold, I do hate to be a scold but you grew
old much too quickly and also much too soon.

Should there come a day when you're forced
to turn the page you will just shuffle offstage.

With no hard feelings, I trust.

However, the bullying doctors demanding
lifestyle changes have arrived prematurely.

If you are reborn as the kinder, gentler sort
the madcap world we cavort in rearranges.

Our friendship is a treasure I'll never forget.
Although your flesh falters my spirit prevails.

Despite someone’s minor aches, petty ails,
I can carry the pair of us for a fair spell yet.

Needless to say I told Fanny
about your misery missive.

She is dismayed yet intrigued
by a situation she believes to be
more a blessing than a catastrophe.

Because it permits us to engage in an exciting
variant of the triad. Instead of our conventional
l'amour à trois, we'll try l'amour à deux plus un.

To vulgarize George Bernard Shaw's
famous line, to drag it down a notch,

_______Those who can, do;
_____those who can't, watch.

On All Hallows' Eve Fanny and I intend to
drop by with whips and a paddle, with a bell,
a book, and a candle, with enough wine, weed,
and K-Y for a very frolicsome Wild West straddle.

Driving our Ford V-8,
Oh, Yippee-i-o-ki-yay!


We'll come wearing sexy cowpoke costumes.
But sadly our lusty cowgirl will be mounted
by a single buckaroo since riding shotgun
sidesaddle is now the only role for you.

Nonetheless we are eagerly anticipating
another delightfully excruciating session.

Wishing you the best of the wurst,

___Alphonse

PS Fanny wanted me to assure you that
you will forever remain our favorite partner
in exploring the pleasurable modalities of pain.

__________________________________________

🤜
Do Not Go Gentle