My speeding ticket is a confound

By Freud, what have we here!
A confound?
Oh please, go away!
My experiment’s gone awry,
My mission is lost,
I am left with a ticket,
My data is skewed by a thousand,
Now all but lost,
Way past my standard of deviation
And my tiny little alpha.
No tricks of the mind can foil the officer,
No implanted memories,
No misleading methods,
Will lower it to naught.


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For the Intermittent Writer


Short books about albums. Published by Bloomsbury.

The Wink

This Week in Kink

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