Your crotch seared into my
afternoon.

If you must wear shorts on your
fat legs please pity the members
of your audience.  

Restaurant's wooden warm
summer tables,  A patio for
my pleasure.  When in you
came. I never saw your face
until the squirming crotch
across the nearby table,
where you sat, friends like:)
you who couldn't see the
dance of fat falling out of
your shorts.  The camel
toed and the chats of friends.

Poured & drunk with no
where through the
sorry exhibition.

Caroline Shank
July 23,  2023