What Is Left To Brush? Poem by Nassy Fesharaki

What is left to brush?

Her t-shirt solid red, on it said: |Budweiser”
I looked and, looked away, shut my mouth,
Half opened…I forced shut…shut and shut.

“She is friend, ” in my thought, “how can I? ”
I knew words of mind: “Is beer, can I suck? ”

Treasures are buried and experts hold brush
Delicate, slowly and with care take the dust
They search for some secrets, some hidden
And info…awareness, pleasure…

Strange are our days, see the range in covers
Still left as taboos, are nipples, between legs
But the rest in open, not much left for brush?

Love joking and one is: “Want beer, can I suck? ”