White Cherries Poem by chris bowen

britney, your nearly a preen to me.a mega queen gone good and the thoughts are food.ashley tisdale, what tales you tell.a great and gold garden sale.be male and patch work orange.be female and grab me by the arm.i give up my charms, a scene, a snatch.i catch a melissa hatch for a fact to squirm her delight.it aint right tonight but theres no fight.a guy walks by and smiles, hes been here awhile, and he wonders the people of amelia isle.we smile, talk for a while, about alligators and bread store capers.they say the sabre of blackbeard is buried here, and to pluck under sucked cherries dear, were in arrears.