frowning a frown- i notice
my beer gut-
gotta decide which to do first:
white vinegar smelly onion,
plump pulpy Toe- mater. or
lettuce.
“you’re vine ripened, YO! ”
i grab you and scream:
“Still got yer’ stem,
doncha? ” i squeeze the ball
hard. I see seeds. squirtin
juice.
right then, i put my fist through
the window.
You are out there. Funny and crazy. Loved it. What was the name of that sandwich?
LOL... Hope you didnt need too many stitches. A great write Scotty
Hilarious, Scotty! Thoroughly enjoyed. Glad I dropt by to peruse.
Frustrating times ain’t they. I know the feeling. Best regards. Sally.
Love the realism resonate with the randomness of the action- pity its missing the associated expletives as it would be in my case
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
I luuurve your style, you are so suggestive in your sandwich write, see in my neck of the woods not sure how far it goes but sandwiches are not always made of slices of bread... great provocative piece...brave