A Contemporary Poem About Bright Red Poem by Alexandre Nodopaka

A woman in bright red shorts
flaunts her giggly luscious cheeky rump.
She skips and hops towards me
with a funny hippy gait.

Passing me she fluffs a very long
squeaky one and exclaims loud enough
for other strollers to turn their heads
towards us.

She whines through her brightly
red-painted lips,
How rude of me to fart in public!
I demonstratively pinch my nose,

point at her the middle finger of my left hand
as I slide the right hand
into my rear right pocket and whip out
a black notebook.

I'm as right-hander as I am a right-winger
and wave it as if it were our national flag
at the strollers crossing our paths
while intoning my lyrics in an operatic voice.

Declaiming I'll be an infamous poet but that
for the time being I am in dire need
of fresh air.
Waiting for my excitement to pass

I sit on a freshly painted bright red
park bench and offer the woman in bright
red shorts to join me and to aim her fluff
between the freshly painted bright red slats

and tell her I have a fetish for rose-tinted farts.
She winks at me with heavy
bright-red eyelids, blushes her carmine
painted cheeks and lays me down

longitudinally along the slats and aligns
my tush with a knot hole consequently
proving that the astronomical alignment
of stars, black holes and knotholes

and the speed of thought blatantly malign
the theories proposed by Carl Sagan and
Stephen Hawking and their asinine
astronomical formulas.

~~~