Listen silent cinema ice man, my 2 glass eyes are cold microscopes
with manual hands that brush across the shady contours of your gay
black broads's ****-front parts with the indirected aim of lawn jarts
that I queerly lob at my axle-grease-needin' Walmart shopping carts
My horrifying memories of you crash like 39 trillion shopping carts
into Lake Erie on a Thursday night during Black Lives Matter night
I drink & drive responsibly so that those I crash into will stay alive,
and I don't do naked modeling much anymore, not since I turned 95
Your French doors are bunged by bunkies and the oily space below
your drip tray makes me abandon regulated marriage very suddenly
too with no tickee, no fucky, no plucky ***-jab, no lucky rose tattoo
She's hot enough to melt dry tampons & I knew that she liked ****-muffin' dark muffin, so I reamed her out with thrill-hammer stuffin'
I gobbled your cookies while you added inches to my wiener which
protruded beyond my pregnant bump to make me look much leaner
like a Mexican scarfin' kidney beans to make his *******-id keener
or to show his legitimacy as a greasy-haired ****** passing as a big
****** thrill-boy looking for a white woman to be his house cleaner