Pitt
A Poem by Corset

How could anyone mistake her for a Pitt Bull?
Those soft jowls and square headed wrinkles
Sweet Mana-T,
we are the Walrus Koo Koo ka choo...

Pops with his skin on fire,
a real hair -hell-raiser

we didn't buy that white castle

no moats, no boats

no tight sunned mailman at the door
pony tailed to his ***.

what...

I'm old,
... not dead.

makes the Buddha smile
it does...

She went and got herself all
God polished, cartooned
very High and very mighty,
it's the only way to hang
incognito,
Sometimes overcome with joy,

he is writing somewhere,
like a lovers bite to the breast

black and blue

like bruising...like hickies

tickle


it makes him happy.
in return,
it makes me happy


...and weird **** just keeps
...happening...

we should talk.

No, Now I live on top of a garden,
a virtual Gnomes paradise,
the owner of this garden
is a wrinkly Lady Gaga-Gnome
centuries old
thumping up to my door at three A.M.
duct taping the bad news to the dark
of my vacuum-less door.

"You, ma'am- are breaking the rules"

She; who thinks the homeowners
association should KNOW
about my extremely "timid
hide under the bed at the
slightest movement"

This sable mini Shar pei-looking

Pitt Bull-

steel jawed Staffordshire Bull Terrier
trembling at the reflection of
her ferocious self.

Newsflash: This just in...daughter... terror stricken...out shopping for handgun.