Lie to Me and other poems

Kit FitzSimons




Lie to Me


What did the doll say to Pinocchio as she sat on his face?


A Madame Alexander is on my nose again.

I know she has cascading chestnut tresses,

a hand-embroidered riding habit

and that foxy pursed-lip pucker,

but all sheíll let me look at is her ass.

She keeps prodding me with her riding crop,

hoping Iíll be turned on by the goading.


Despite the sound of it, itís working,

and a fib escapes my lips before I can stop.

I hate losing control of my body, but

she knows, if she gets me excited enough,

I will.  Thatís what Iím here for, rightó

To make the dolls happy, to be their poppet?

Who cares the means if the ends are filled?


Last week, a mint-condition American Girl

completely squelched my conscience

when itóheópersuaded me to turn her down.

With a catty little smirk, she promised

she could get the cricket-stains out

if I gave her my pants to launder.

I havenít gotten them back yetÖ


Now, back again on pleasure island,

Iíll pull out, wipe myself off and go

brag to My Buddy, but do I really mean it?

Iíve been told that all I need to do is

keep my nose clean and Iíll get a happy ending,

but Iím not allowed to be good;

they want me nasty.  I want to be a real boy,


but the dolls like me better this way.



Unrequited Apathy


Iím wild about your wary ways,

Your falling back a ginger pace,

Your weary walk through dreary days

Disguising just how well you race.


Youíre falling back a ginger pace,

A clever, calculated ruse

Disguising just how well you race.

You never run; you never lose,


A clever, calculated ruse.

Your torpor keeps me on my toes.
You never runóyou never lose?

At any rate, it never shows.


Your torpor keeps me on my toes.

Or is that false? I canít keep track.

At any rate, it never shows;

You draw me in by drawing back.


Or is that false? I canít keep track

Of every sigh and verbal stall.

You draw me in by drawing back:

An apathetic sirenís call.


For every sigh and verbal stall

And weary walk through dreary days,

For each paretic sirenís calló

Iím wild about your wary ways.






Starting next Sunday,


communion wafers

will be available for

our congregationís

vegetarian community.



We removed the rusty grating

from the confessional today;

Father Thomas has ordered

a new gold-plated screen.

The booth will remain

open in the meantime.



Our votives this month

were all on clearance

after Easter. Donít worry:

the bunnies wonít eavesdrop

on your prayers for long.




our Blessed Virgin

stopped weeping blood. 

She must be pleased

with our progress.



To the unknown vandals:

There are now landmines

buried in the graveyard.

Thatíll teach you respect.


Kit FitzSimons is unashamedly an Eagle Scout, a graduate of UNC-Chapel Hill, a double older brother, a self-proclaimed cruciverbalist, and the Marketing Coordinator for the DSI Comedy Theater in Carrboro, NC (  You can hear him on the air (or more universally, streaming online at every Sunday from 4-5pm during the DSI Comedy Hour on WCOM  103.5 FM Carrboro. 


Photo Courtesy of Dreamstime.




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Poems Copyright © 2006 Kit FitzSimons. All rights reserved.