A birthday wish to part of me,
My pacemaker today is three.
I hate it still, this metal cube
That looks like I’ve a third man-boob.
(At least it means I’ll never flirt,
Because I won’t remove my shirt,
Nor will I hang round singles bars
Coz actually chicks do NOT dig scars).
My dignity I quickly lose
When I get pulled from airport queues
Because I can’t use their x-ray
(Got FIRMLY frisked at JFK).
I will not swim, or use a gym,
Lest others catch a glimpse of him
(And those of you who know me well
Will know I miss the gym – like hell).
And finally, it really smarts
When it turns on…. like nipple-farts.
And yet… I’m free to cycle, and to drive
I’m even free to deep-sea dive
(I’d never want to, but I can
Coz I can do like any man).
I do not black-out anymore
And smack my face upon the floor.
For if I am about to fall
– Because my heart-rate’s sweet-fuck-all-
My pacemaker will fill the void
Now that I’m a part android.
So though it’s still an ugly lump,
My battery-operated pump,
Today I’ll toast it with a beer –
Without it I might not be here.