Monday, April 27, 2015


She walks around dressed like a hooker clown
With four inch stilt that make her walk en pointe,
A miniskirt of shiny golden coins
That makes me wonder what man would anoint

With pearls the breasts that almost tumble out
The low-cut rainbow bandeau top, tightly
Enwrapping them so we can see they're cold
Or that the owner is excited. Nightly

She and her friend in pants with camel toe
So tight and obvious that if they were
The color of her skin she'd be in jail
Go out to find a man -- and she and her

Best friend will settle every night for men
Who see them as two sex dolls who can move --
Their dress that makes me laugh at them is for
These men a signal for each one to prove

His manliness, as though to bed a woman
Who advertises her receptiveness
In neon, shiny gold and outlined breasts
And genitalia are hard to press

Into spread-eagled openness upon
A bed. She needs to learn this is a plan
That fills her emptiness with sour seed --
Soon she will say she can't find a good man.

Yet every night this hooker clown will come
To clubs to find a man who just hung up
With wife or fiancee to buy a drink
For her so he can fill her fleshy cup.

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