sonnet If Im minutes late

If Im minutes late to our next meeting
You crudely tap your fancy wristwatch face
You may be many minutes late and bleating
You punch at walls you wail in gauche disgrace
You purport my parents prime stuff fleeting
I swing yours sir and missus not to selfabase
I clam on clear clues and game yours greeting
You skimp on childhood traumas any trace
Im loyal in love youre seen at best black sheep
And Ive got situations just sorted out
You laugh it off as only right Im cheap
As sex and smiles erase my brief love drought
You play me the dupe the dozey diddle
Rest of you best read a raunchy riddle
Chorus diddle mark sucker