Bora born
Booty _
Fleeced inside out with a tanned look about
them, snuggled fit, warm as toast, both feet fed.
Cool in summers sweaty lot, soaks you up
fibre white springy threads, still turn loose heads.
He waits in line watching those about him
the usherette is young, tickets are torn.
He shows her his arm where the ticket is
hiding, under the watch band, near his hand.
He looks her up, she looks him down, the bike
helmet full of snacks unhealthy tribute.
Slight of movement she tears the token, my
word, she just loves men who wear Uggs in town.
- O -
© feb 2006 _ Nhawrr yirrpa
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Booty _
Booty _
