PETRARCHAN SONNET on DIWAKAR cruising

Diwakar’s Rosebuds

Gather ye rosebuds, my friend, while ye may,
Said a young man now in his entombed bed,
Diwakar got up with inspired head.
Never had he combed the hair that there lay.
Now, rosebuds in his eyes, chance on his side,
Clipping his nose hair, combing sprightly bush,
Stripping his moustache and scrubbing his tush,
Revving his engine, cruised for a one night bride.

Long tresses, slick face raced his stubby buff,
Eyelashes spread long and tight firm booty,
Preferably a down and out starling.

Women they stared, his extravagant puff,
Men they dared a mate to call him fruity,
His slinky night bride, a man called Darling.