all she wants is trouble
plenty to go round
if we go ten rounds

she is in shape par excellence
flat stomach, boxer curvature arm muscles
legs worth chasing,
******* that rhyme with fest,
hair causal casual over one eye
undraping
me

she’s asking for it
another poem punch in her kisser

and u think why me
now that she knows my crinkled face
graying eyes and you think
the answer is in a previous poem

the answer to everything is
a Texas sized why not?
after all she must like the experience
contained in a man’s too **** brain

and i know cause
got her wrapped around my
cerebellum