beer belly muscle

her voice with sharp tone
is the one thing that can draw
me back from slumber
she has seen far too much
but her shy glancing is a
picture perfect to paint the near
**** image of innocent young
country girl gone bad

his bent neck two handed stride
beer belly muscle sweat grinds
on your senses
but his voice is low and slow
like a Plymouth idling on a hot swamp road
like a man once drowned and saved
looking at an ocean with
reservations deep deep reservations

they bore a child
better put she bore them
her unreserved laugh
and hot hot smile sleek by her eighteenth
but its her depth and soul its her brilliant poem
at 4am its her drunken fisticuffs with a stuffed animal
its her wrapped around you and burrowing into you with every grunting sweating twenty two year old hardbody mile
that leaves body and soul reborn