"gators" poems
Down in the bayou where the mangroves grow
There's talk of black voodoo, like Marie Leveau
The Swamp Witch, is legend, she has magic so black
That those who have seen her, have never come back
There;s tales of the noises that come from the dark
Of werewolves and zombies as rough as the bark
The mangroves are sentinels, to where the magic resides
Where even a longboat has no room to glide
Bodies go missing from the graveyards most nights
And there's always a fog shading the fireflies lights
The Swamp Witch is ruler and Queen of this world
Where souls are all taken and spines can be curled
They say that she came here from Canadian lands
She was a metis they say, from the Western Tar Sands
A mystic by nature, a dark witch by blood
She lives deep in the swamp, protected by gators and mud
The gators respect her, they do as she bids
They keep watch on the waters, they're her reptillian kids
She keeps zombies as gendarmes, collecting bodies to turn
Just how black is her magic, no one can discern
The Swamp Witch is legend, she is as old as all time
The air in the bayou is as thick as the slime
The cajuns say voodoo is the core of her heart
They avoid fishing where the mangrove trees start
The Swamp Witch, a legend ? or is she truly the Queen
She's the Louisiana Witch, no one survives once she's seen.....
May 1, 2013
May 1, 2013 at 11:33 PM UTC
Ripples riddle the mirror,
Below, faint shapes shift
Elegant forms float here and there,
Little legs thunder, leaving a gentle wake
in lieu of turmoil.
The air is thick, the sun falling,
Already lost behind billowing storm clouds
Etched chaotically on the horizon.
Invisible but for the ubiquitous light.
It is the dragonflies time,
A darting zip and an effortless flutter.
From surfacing **** to towering Reed,
Searching for something we can only pretend to know.
Determined housewives, faces set,
Arms pumping and hips swaying
Their Anatidean waddle so fitting
Their quacks, a wall of stereo.
A lone rusted sign warns of gators,
but of signs, there is that one alone.
No rogue bubbles or beady eyes,
no ticking of swallowed clocks,
no suspicious splashes.
nothing.
My battery is now as low as the sun,
and my pen is as empty.
A not so subtle poke in the ribs
from a universe in protest of the
bad poetry being inked.
c'est la vie
or as we say in English
**** it
Aug 2, 2018
Aug 2, 2018 at 10:47 AM UTC
whisk me away on a ship that's not there.
To an island full of gators! that have been covered in hair.
exploring misty mountains! and climbing epic trees!
diving to the bottom, of the air in the breeze.
imagine a life like that, think of life full of tales!
fighting great monsters, that has a full nine tails!
take me away to a life just with you,
to a world of bickering, but never between two.
now the Lord calls us in, to sleep in her kites.
dreams of flying high, and falling in love with the night.
as you dream away beneath me, I wonder sad and clear.
what comes of tomorrow, if the air is mighty queer?
do we stay inside our castle and find an evil spy?
or go outside in the gales?
and let our imagination,
take flight.
Sep 4, 2018
Sep 4, 2018 at 11:29 PM UTC
bayou baby
She comes from the swamplands
Back in the mangrove
Back where the stories say
Magic runs wild
The devil plays host
And all who visit must stay
Witches and Zombies
Together by night
Gators and Snakes there as well
The river, it changes
Cut you off in a flash
And then you end up in hell
Hair as black as Kentucky Coal
And eyes green as the sea
She's the witch queen of the swamp to most
But, she's a Bayou Baby to me
Born out of the magic's world
Where the mystic world runs free
She's the witch queen of the swamp to most
But, she's a Bayou Baby to me
She comes to town
to get supplies
That's where I saw her first
I followed close
Back to the swamp
And saw her do her worst
A simple boat
A single lamp
An oarsmen, long, long dead
A different route
Through water black
To a place where most folks dread
Hair as black as Kentucky Coal
And eyes green as the sea
She's the witch queen of the swamp to most
But, she's a Bayou Baby to me
Born out of the magic's world
Where the mystic world runs free
She's the witch queen of the swamp to most
But, she's a Bayou Baby to me
She saw me
And I looked back
She knew that I would follow
She slowed down
Her travel home
And she trapped me in the hollow
I never told
Another soul
Of who I go to see
I travel out
At night alone
My Bayou Baby waits for me
Hair as black as Kentucky Coal
And eyes green as the sea
She's the witch queen of the swamp to most
But, she's a Bayou Baby to me
Born out of the magic's world
Where the mystic world runs free
She's the witch queen of the swamp to most
But, she's a Bayou Baby to me
Oct 27, 2013
Oct 27, 2013 at 9:31 PM UTC
Abundant With Life The River Stretches Its Body,
Bending And Winding Around The Earth's *****
Cormorants Swim Happily-Their Wings Tucked,
Diving Into The Clear Water As My Warming Soul
Embeds Itself Into The Folds Upon Her Surface,
Fish Swim In Schools Among The Weeds While
Gators Quietly Lurk In The Darkened Shadows,
Herons Stare Deep Into The River; Spying A Meal,
I Felt So Alive, So Free Over The Turqouise Water,
Jungle Like Trees Waved To Me As I Floated By,
Kayaking Really Soothes The Soul, I Realized
Lifting My Paddle Out Of The Water Then Back In,
Maliable The Water Beneath Me Swirled Between,
Nothingness, And Nobody, Here And Now,
Old And Ancient, Spiraling Where Secrets Are Kept,
Plunging Into Her A Slight Drizzle Disturbed The
Quiet Calm That Lapped Upon Her Cheeks As The
Rain Grew Heavier, While The Sky Broke In Two,
Silent My Kayak Drifted, Following The Currents,
Tugging Me Through The Almost Blinding Rains,
Under The Rolling Droplets My Skin Grew Cold,
Vibrance Of The Water Below Then Warmed My Core,
While I Drifted Back To Shore I Awaited For The
Xenophobic World To Come Back Into My Life,
Yelling Loud To The Heavens My Soul Spoke Of A Wish,
Zealous The World Should Be, Great Spirit,
Take Them To The River
Jul 3, 2013
Jul 3, 2013 at 3:19 PM UTC
Between the din of dusk and dawn
Runs Sleepy Pillow Lane,
Where gators guard the Gates of Thorn
And cryptid creatures reign.
They glide across the midnight sky
Like grime in sanguine sewers;
White canines long and talons drawn
Spike rodents on a skewer.
Gray giants glare from full-moon eyes,
A ghastly ghoulish spell;
Sweet sleepers swell the wells of Nile
While centaurs swing the bell.
Horned vipers writhe into your fears
Like scythes through strangled weeds;
And severed heads of angel hair
From shouldered stumps relieved.
A putrid pile of newly-deads
Awaits the devil's scorn;
And legless maggots gorge in beds
From which the fly is born.
Hungry hyenas howl in packs
While circling carrions crow;
And chunks of flesh are torn from backs
Cracking bones bare below.
Scavengers feast on man and beast,
No rotting limb is spared;
From hanging tongues to napping feet
Blood splatters everywhere.
Brimstone and thunder fill the air
With hail presaging doom;
Ten toothless witches shriek and cheer
As zombies creep from tombs.
Masked mummies stalk with stakes and stones
In search of sleeping heads;
They crave the skulls and living bones
Of bodies slumped in bed.
Through R.E.M. you toss and turn
And roll on restless wheels;
Alas Red Rooster blows his horn
To end your grim ordeal....
~ P
(January, 2013)
Jul 20, 2013
Jul 20, 2013 at 3:22 PM UTC
In the South of Florida
In the middle of the swamp
There's a little dance we all do
Called the Alligator Chomp
It gets your arms a flapping
And a tapping of the toes
Right along side the cedar stump
In the middle of the boat
Form your fingers into gator teeth
Then slap your hands out front
That's there's what we call in these parts
The Alligator Chomp
The swamp gets rather lively
It's a scene like nothing else
As the gators keep in beat
With the slapping of the tails
Never stop the arms from flapping though
That'd be your last mistake
Instead of the Alligator Chomp
You'd become Alligator Bait
It happens all to often
When someone falls off of the boat
They sink straight to the bottom
Into some alligators throat
We surely do miss our friends
As do their wives and kids
We ain't seen hide nor hair of them
Since their last gator dance
So if you find yourself in Florida
In the middle of the swamp
We'd love to have you join us
In some good old fashion Alligator Chomp
Apr 28, 2014
Apr 28, 2014 at 7:51 PM UTC
I have never been to the snowy peaks
Of sitting stones that pierce the clouds
Cutting strange patterns in their
White vaporous forms
I have never boated through the muggy swamps
Deep within the borders of our southern states
Dark marshes that seem to be made of moist jungle green
With camouflaged gators lurking just beneath
Ready to gobble you up
I have never seen the center of an ocean or a sea
Never been lost with only water on the horizon
The only life left to see swimming deep beneath me
I have never walked the tundra
Seeing nothing but winter’s frosty sheet
Awestruck with my dumb luck
But becoming snow blind
Alone with my mind
In a vast white wasteland
I have never and perhaps I never will
For lack of opportunity or depths of fear
But in your photos and words
I have seen this world
What a gift you have given me
Sep 3, 2015
Sep 3, 2015 at 9:21 PM UTC
Folksy blokes, like ya struttin’ ya thang
If you’ve come out of da Grand Ole Opry
But, won’t stay around for any old music sang
If it’s causing their head, to bob up and down and go all floppy
While rugged mountain men riding in some country rodeo
Can just step right up, to a Appalachia recording studio
Put down several tracks and become a worldwide pop star
They sing about hillbilly ways, while cogging or flatfooting from afar
Talking ‘bout wild hogs, gators, foxes & how so many more
Taste so great, using leftovers as bait & making real men roar
Old fables, told through pictures and patterns, upon knitted quilt
Even showing the feuding days of the Hatfields versus McCoys
From both sides of Tug Fork stream, with many unemployed
Although Asa and Devil Anse, said, ‘they hadn’t much guilt’
All because of a judge and 5000 acres of unusable swamp land
Once owned, by a close kissin’ cousin named, Perry Cline
Who didn’t even get any blood on his hand
They started a war, that could’ve been stopped
By a bottle or two, of good ole mountain moon-shine
Both clans almost wiped out, if last man standing had accidentally dropped.
Sep 26, 2019
Sep 26, 2019 at 10:40 PM UTC
I went into the pro shop
Paid my fees and turned to leave
The man behind the counter said
"you're new here...I believe"
I said I'd never played here
He said "there's things that you should know"
"I'll grab us both a coffee"
"Listen close...before you go"
"The first two holes are easy"
"nothing there gets in the way"
"no bunkers, and no water"
"just the way to start the day"
"It gets tougher on the third hole"
"There's some birds up in the trees"
"They buzz you while you're putting"
"Remember...birds on three"
"The fourth hole is a dog leg"
"It has a river on the right"
'Avoid the yellow caution tape"
"We had a drowning there last night"
I swallowed hard and stared back
"A drowning out on four"
"That's right" he said "don't worry"
"At least it's not the wild boar"
"The WILD BOAR?" I said aloud
He said "he's on five through seven"
"Don't worry much on those holes"
"He's been sighted on eleven"
"The eighth is fairy simple"
"A par three that you can reach"
"Water moccasins in the swamp"
"And lots of spiders in the beach"
"The greens are all receptive"
"They hold well, just come in high"
'But, land is short...there's quicksand"
"So...go in there...you die"
"you make the turn, and grab a dog"
"I give them out for free"
"The owner says it's wasteful"
"But, I say...just let it be"
"The tenth hole is a par five"
"It' one to reach in two"
"But if you put it out of bounds"
"I'd leave it...if I were you"
"you know about the wild boar"
"so eleven gets a pass"
"he's got some bite, that sumbitch"
"He might gore you in the ***
"Now twelve...is quite a pickle"
"I'll tell you watch out now.....not later"
"We have a situation there"
"It's fairway's full of gator"
"What the hell is that you say"
"There's a gator out there then"
"Today there is but somedays son"
"You can meet as much as ten"
"You must be mad" I yelled at him
"I'm leaving...I'll not play"
"on a course so full of danger"
"There's no way...just no way"
I asked him for a refund
he pointed up above his head
"no refunds, only rainchecks"
"and then only if you're dead"
I sacrificed my forty bucks
And left, out to my car
The pro just sat and smiled
"I've scared off thirty one so far"
I know I'll not return here
not with friends or by myself
not with spiders in the bunkers
Or gators on the twelfth.
Apr 26, 2016
Apr 26, 2016 at 11:12 AM UTC
Sometimes we have a life long dream...
but not sure where to start....
and sometimes we must go to the extreme..
with a thought that's not so smart....
It started with an issue..
she knew she had to resolve..
Unaware of her options, but knew it had to be solved..
He destroyed the girl that she had been...
destroyed the world she had lived in...
She weighed the pro's and the con's..
and concluded it had to do with ponds...
So she set out on a mission..
and decided to save for her own condition.
A well deserved vacation in the " Florida Keys"..
for her and her honey , and with his money....
The months how they passed...
So slowly, then at last...
The day they left was 20 below..Brrr..cold
Soon they were driving down Old Cheney Road..
A backwoods road where the St. Johns' River flowed..
I hear the fishing there is great...
You'll get a bite with very little bait..
They reached the lake in the early morn..
and that is where her plot was born..
She poured the coffee she had made..
and laced it with some " gator aide "....
Here my love she said so sweetly..
I made this special for you my sweetie..
The cast was made, the bait was set..
No reason for her to sweat or fret...
Eyes did close and body went limp..
She started to shake and then thought..
Come on girl be strong don't be a wimp..
No one knows we're here or where we're at..
She rolled the body to the edge of the water...
heard a splash !..it was only an otter...
Within a flash, the body was trash...
there must have been 20 gators below..
ripping and flipping the body about..
She packed up and decided to go back the scenic route....
post note: I've always wanted to be my own boss, and now due to my recent loss..
The Insurance is an assurance and I don't have to wait...
I'll open a store and call it " GATOR BAIT "
Apr 12, 2015
Apr 12, 2015 at 2:32 PM UTC
Jessica, I've seen your bruises
The ones you try to hide
You were out shopping, thought no one was looking
While in the grocery isle
Jessica, I knew this was happening
No need to see the proof
I'm about to do something to that good for nothing
Next time he lays a hand on you
Jessica, I saw you crying
Sitting on that old wooden stump
Just want you to know that no good so and so
May not be there when you get home
Jessica, you can relax now
And be anything that you want
I figured sooner or later I'd find some hungry gators
Down at the edge of Myrtle swamp
Now Jessica's no longer crying...
Nov 23, 2013
Nov 23, 2013 at 1:14 AM UTC
Peeking out the window
On all Hallow's Eve
Watching little Globlins
Skip about with glee.
Witch's and warlocks
traveling the streets
Looking so scary
Asking for treats.
Dinos and gators
fairies and elves,
scurry about
frightening themselves.
The sun grows dim,
the porchlight shines,
the ghouls and monsters
scowl just fine.
Creatures a-plenty
Come out to play
Once each year
for All Hallow's Day.
Oct 17, 2010
Oct 17, 2010 at 4:32 PM UTC
And the spiders eat the flies,
And the frogs eat the spiders,
And the snakes eat the frogs,
And the birds eat the snakes,
And the cats eat the birds,
And the cats eat the birds,
And the cats grow fat and the
cats grow slow and the cats all die,
And the flies eat the cats,
And frogs eat the flies,
And the spiders eat the birds,
And the cats eat the snakes and
then there are the gators and the gators
eat them all and the gators eat them all,
And the gators grow fat,
And the gators all die,
And the flies eat the gators, and the cats,
and the birds, and the snakes, and the frogs,
and the spiders, and the plants and the
garbage, and
everything...
The flies eat the world
and the humans don't know,
And the humans don't know.
They're all inside,
Because flies are annoying.
Oct 15, 2011
Oct 15, 2011 at 10:23 PM UTC
spanish rose lingers in the corner
with some french sailor who is
just a breathing caricature
illustrated in ink and animated by alcohol
his four letter word vocabulary with deluxe cardboard delivery
but its his eyes that capture you
swimming in hundred proof they are
wise with miles of years
and wicked in a smoky dark room way
but she is too busy to notice
flirting with the stranger across the room
a traveling salesman with boxes
of rusty trinkets for crafty sale
meanwhile old jack is swinging on the gibbet
talking away the hours with his old flame and friends
he is a threadbare imitation of me
and that suits you fine
long as its three meals and a slice of pie
the essentials of easy living wrapped up in a lace hanky
its a little ***** and on the down low
but the whole digging in some
rich kids ***** laundry for loose change
never appealed to you all that much
so attached to old jack come to make your stand
both barrels smoking hot and ready to let loose
should any fool step to the line
we all watched with amusements
as the magician open his show with a shock and awe
that sputtered and fell
but we all loved his punch lines so much that we
cheered him on all night
the chorus girls got us all up and dancing little past three
and the suave singer had us cheek to cheek by dawn
it was another night to remember to be sure
memorable as stumpy swimming with the gators
we all shuffle barefoot in the sand
to our dusty beds
and dream sweetly of fiveash romance novella endings
and the beauties of dawn
we will be up to no good once more
all loud and proud
young and full'a *****
as a spring moon crests over seaside town
May 19, 2014
May 19, 2014 at 10:21 AM UTC
aloof alphas attack!
banal betas boom, before backing
cautiously, creeping
down, defensible dark
estuaries, estranged escapes
from fierce fiery-eyed
giant gators gathered,
hard hearted hedged
in impossible illumination, irate
jowly jeering jaded jackals
**** **** **** …
let loose low laughs
making much mirth mercilessly
now none need nourishment
oblivious obvious, overt
a putrescent phalanx,
quite quintessential a querulous quorum
a quatre
raucous resounding raptorials retreated
subsequently seizing sizeable sarcoid
sections in scissor strokes
total tormentors, that time twists the
ugly utilitarian
veracious victory
works the wild
yearning as
zealots
Apr 10, 2015
Apr 10, 2015 at 9:30 PM UTC
Jungle Jim
I step quietly through the foliage
each step one foot in front of the other
thorny bushes reaching out to grab me
large webs with entrapped insects
being very careful watching intently
poisionous snakes are abound
an occasional grunt from gators
warning not to come any closer
they guard their young viciously
my exploring buddy Jim warning me
about the wild boar seen lately
large prehistoric looking birds swooping
and making screeching sounds
finally I hear I got it I got it
the treasure we had been seeking
now to retrieve it and make our way
our way back out of this jungle
look out for the huge spider I yell
and Jim ducks just in time
we finally see the clearing ahead
whew! Wasn't sure we would get back
dam Jim next time be more careful
next time hit your 7 iron instead
now what did you get on that hole?
Gomer LePoet ....
Sep 2, 2011
Sep 2, 2011 at 3:43 AM UTC
I believe in a number of things
Horses, gators, even mammals with wings
I believe that a bird and a rat, got cozy one night
and that became that
that as in bat
a bat became that
from the bed of a bird and a rat.
the bird saw the rat being chased by the cat
that they had in common, the cat was a brat
So they chatted and chatted, till the chat became flat
I haven't a bed, but I do have this mat, said the rat.
This mat will do, the bird said as she sat.
soon that became that
that as in a bat
a bat became that
from the bed of a bird and a rat.
May 14, 2018
May 14, 2018 at 2:04 AM UTC
This body;
This temple of one;
Cursed to some;
Sinister to many.
This body;
This temple of one;
Scarred by struggle;
Consumed by fear.
Conditioned to be wary;
Scavenging at the weakest links
Of destiny's food chain.
As the lions roam free,
Higher up.
Raising kin to be kings,
To break this body;
This temple of one,
With impunity.
This body was lynched in Montgomery,
***** in Rome.
Poisoned by Derby's dose
In Montego Bay.
And fed to bull gators in Jacksonville.
This body was stripped in Rio;
Feathered in Saint Kitts;
Beheaded in Berbice;
And tarred in Tennessee.
This body was shot In Chicago;
Shot in Charlotte.
Shot in Missouri.
Shot in the Bronx.
Shot.
Shot.
Shot.
Shot.
This body;
This temple of one;
This ******* child of the universe
Is sick of being
Shot.
Of dying young.
Of rotting in cell block 9
And sealed boxes underground.
While the lions roam free,
Higher up.
Raising kin to be kings,
To break this body;
This temple of one,
With impunity.
~ P
#This_Body
2/10/2017
Feb 10, 2017
Feb 10, 2017 at 7:36 PM UTC
Restless Encounter
Returned from the graveyard shift
I needed a lift
Puppy eyes shut
Barks abut
I couldn't sleep
So I counted sheep
One, two, three, four
There's a knock at the door
It's an old cougar
That wants to borrow sugar
Coast was clear
I had no fear
Two hours later
The gator was catered
It's back to sleep
Counting sheep
Halfway to fourty
Lawn mower sounds, oh lordly
Two hours later
The gator's a hater
It's back to sleep
Counting sheep
Twist and turned twenty five
And more unneeded jive
Alarm clock set for wrong time
Chime, chime, chime
Can you believe that
The gator spat
It's back to sleep
Counting sheep
I see her in the lea
Playing with me
Her wool a nice set
As my gator's lip wet
And this time the wifely returns
My insides want to burn, burn, burn
My gator sighs
As she says hi
Hi I weep, weep, weep
Please I need some sleep
She looks (esoteric) at me
With that look of plea, plea, plea
She wants her sugar fix, too
My gator singing it's blue
My eyes want to close
But there she blows
Chime, chime, chime
Wifely having a good time
On top of the train track
Gators attacked
His sheep counting on him
To stop the bedlam
Logan Robertson
9/6/17
Sep 6, 2017
Sep 6, 2017 at 9:21 AM UTC
You were not real to me back then,
but who was real to anyone
in those crazy days.
We held hands,
skipped stones,
tumbled on oaken banks.
We hid out in the palmettos,
made beef jerky,
cleaned rabbits,
traded secrets.
You taught me gentleness,
showed me what made you tick.
Primal-musk was thick in the air,
I succumbed to your whims,
rose up to meet every sweet-demand.
We sinned, glistened in the summer sun.
I watched myself spread your flower,
was your man of the hour,
we had genuine backwoods fun.
Those were the really wild times,
we scrambled in the brambles,
seemed always on the run.
We stole kisses with
moccasins & gators
down at that
old swimming hole.
Our lives intertwined,
we swirled, swooned
under the moon,
spooning.
I reminisce about you often &
now realize all great things
come to an end.
Still, I have the taste
of black water & you
in my mouth,
whispering you good vibes...
Jan 8, 2014
Jan 8, 2014 at 3:46 PM UTC
I looked up
through cypress boughs
to see the sliver, a moon smile
casting eerie shadows upon
leaves dancing, swaying moss
swirling & ricocheting
the hard echoes
of bullfrogs singing
rich swamp melody.
I wish I could
stay here forever,
in this southern flavor,
deep in the bayou,
where gators growl.
Mar 2, 2014
Mar 2, 2014 at 8:23 PM UTC
In dark and dreary Georgia swampland , in the midnight hour with the light of the Moon as your only friend .. Yellow and red eyes glow in the shadows , cottonmouths and gators slowly cross the waters ...
Bullfrogs sing in the Cattails , Horned Owls screech across the timberlands .. Bobcats scream , sound just like a woman late at night ,
they'll catch you off guard every time , make your beard turn white from fright ..Mosquitos are relentless , the humidity hell , blood ******* leeches , brown bats and rabid foxes .. Wild hogs work the bogs left and right , don't ever get caught by a razorback without a good plan or corner a 'Coon' by accident , kick a Snapper thinking it's just a rock , or pick up a Rattlesnake looking for a walkin' stick .. Rumors of black panthers and 'shine wild men ', Confederate soldier ghost and quicksand .. Always lay a trail from where you started are you'll spend all night in haunted , Georgia swamp country ...
Mar 2, 2016
Mar 2, 2016 at 10:35 PM UTC
Will be leaving soon for Orlando,
Away from the cold in Ontario.
Will I return?
I really don't know.
A wacko may secretly board my plane;
A radicalized lunatic far from sane.
Or Canada geese, heading south,
Might take our fuelled jet engines out.
Some random lightning shot from the sky
Lights up our cockpit,
And the pilots die.
The landing gear is up and stuck...
“I don't think I drank enough!”
There's mad rage on the road
Between
Orlando and St. Augustine.
There’s snub-nosed guns in too many bags,
And the pubs are teeming with cougars and *****
The Matanzas flows with gators and sharks,
I'll make note of this as my kyak embarks.
A drunken driver could do the job;
Or I get hospitalized
From being robbed.
An Early Bird bone might make me choke,
Or an errant golf ball holes out in my throat.
Perhaps nothing happens, I’m too suspect
Of the possible perils from my Florida trek.
Is it worth the risks. I’ll let you know,
When I get back to the warmth of Ontario.
Jan 11, 2025
Jan 11, 2025 at 12:03 PM UTC
N'awlins babe with
a pretty flower-tat,
seared tuna & sesame,
a dab of wasabi,
club soda & lime,
lily pads & gators.
That's where it's at,
my happy hour
down here,
somewhere.
Aug 29, 2014
Aug 29, 2014 at 5:59 PM UTC