My Arms You Smell Good Poem by Cigar Aficionado
My Arms You Smell Good
Heavy is this sign you
have not given me.
My pockets are empty
as is my stomach.
Be ashamed I am you
you have not bore me yet.
Spent are your bullets
though mighty are the
weeds of transgression.
Step forth from your air
conditioned car and hold
my sign for a while.
We can split the money and smile.
Monday, April 6, 2009
Topic(s) of this poem: car,money
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8/5/2026 5:14:40 AM # rel_20260803T153344Z_4267e77
