run while you can

No bonnets, a sonnet.

These things. Icheon, South Korea. Spring 2011.

Females’ hearts, larger than their male counterparts.
Males have their manes. Lazy-ass lions, listless, leo.
The lionesses manhandle the hunt, grocery carts.
Dealing death by strangulation (dat’s da dealio).

‘Families,’ I guess, named after the cardinal sin;
one male mating (polygamously, not incestuously).
That headdress overheats him during the exertion.
Boys exiled after puberty. Best wishes (self-servingly).

Young lad, sorry chap, off/away, on his own, just okay.
A home, impossible without women workhorses (if I may).
A one, a two, and a three, magnificent, some unique way.
His heart, still there: ‘smaller, beating,’ certain sources say.

Tuck in that shirt (a button-up, protect that hairdo, Leu).
‘Lesson learned,’ as they say, ‘back in the day.’ Life’s in lieu.

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