On Town and Bar

sexy stinky

the rattle of rubber bones

sashay, she’s winking

Rembrandt could not improve upon those legs

Powerless, the old man is on a boy’s whim.

The whiskey drinks the man

Under the table,

Ah, but the table was willing

He fell to his feet

Standing on her bra

Builds condominiums on her attitude

Cola from her tears

And condiments from her piss (no need for a straw)

Filling her up to her feet

From which wafts up the odor of the most beautiful dead queen

Introduce her

Musk macabre, the milk merry mother

Of our God,

Her breath is a breeze

Her smile a culture

The swelling of the vulture

The murder of the King

Attention at best is moody

But the appetite is keen

 

 

---

Buy the Book!