Dirty Old Man Poem by James McLain
Dirty Old Man
Always a bun in the oven.
Swollen and fat it is dripping.
Puffed out the smile triggers a reflex
about or around often of.
The button I pull sucking I push deeply in.
Whispers I hear above the clear face
puckered lips.
The moon sits high in the sky it is open.
Knowing that people are there to watch
the pain form as it open stretches.
Watching you dream about the wall street walkers.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Delivering Poems Around The World
Poems are the property of their respective owners. All information has been reproduced here for educational and informational purposes to benefit site visitors, and is provided at no charge...
5/10/2024 11:40:33 AM # 1.0.0.1119
