Bonnet, Mugs Bonnet (poem)

This classy ass suit? It’s French; stark.
My cigars whisper rolling rings.
Bookie by day… don’t ask after dark.
Long ears perked hear secretive things. 
Don’t piss me off, my razor is: sharp.
Fur’s unshaven, blade slicing stings.
Don’t cross us, you might fall apart.
We got good friends: rings within rings. 
Of this family: I’m Patriarch.

Thumper: “The Kick”, master of weng chun kung-fu.
Trix: “The Magic”: with “cereal” disappearings.
Roger, “Comedian”, and pimp’n playboy bunnies too.
Easter, preaching while the choir sings.
Bugs, my little brother, you big star you!

We’re bunnies banded: bunnies in blood,
because rabbits rule over this neighborhood. 

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