i can't get too exact for the fear of being rude
out my window i saw an old fat man jogging nude
he caught my eye, there he was
parts shaking i didn't think would budge
he passed by my window in all his glory
the back side show itself now it gets gory
with a back that could serve as a western prairie
yes it was that hairy
a river of sweat ran down that back
Towhere it was buffered and slowed before the crack
Buffered by what you say?
Little brown berry from a meal yesterday
my mind wanders as to which is worse
the one that watches, or the one that jogs nude
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem