Returning My Underwear. That's Too Small. Poem by Scotty Dogg
Returning My Underwear. That's Too Small.
Into walmarty plummers you know.
Crack. Open to the public.
Some brown yes, I know.
Lightin’ a freakin’ smoke.
Look around daring some
S.O.B. Anything. White page.
Go to carrot aisle damn you!
And check for no one in particular.
Walk to returns, check behind.
For smiles. Look for lies, but too much.
Gotta money me man! Yes, hold them up.
These underwear are too small. I lied.
Smiley-smile... call on any vegetable, as Zappa opined. Well, you did 'nanas, so of course carrots were next, right? How's about a nice ripe eggplant? I mean, the fruit and veggie aisles are a freakin' bonanza, right?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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5/4/2024 4:58:57 AM # 1.0.0.1119
Written down who is looking, who is reading