Friday, November 14, 2014

Poems that Demand Bad Breath







The greatest thing about middle-aged women, their finest moments, will likely occur to me in slow-motion when I arrive comfortably in the diaper of my late sixties. 

I will look about and think out loud, Yes, yes, yes... she moves like a lovely viagra inhalator. 

Contemplate the oval mystery that is woman, the imperfect elliptic of life.


Oh, sweet mother galaxy... provide thine oysters. 




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