Dancing With The Transvestite

Poem By Brad Evans

everything
seemed fine:

hot legs,
lips

except her
his adam's apple,
bobbing

on
the dance floor

and I eyed
it

carefully

and waited out
the song

as things
began to dawn

in my
scotch-sunken

brain

and my brother,
beer slopping in one
hand,

leaped onto the dancefloor
and took her
him

as partner

and I found
a reason

to go take

a
piss.

Comments about Dancing With The Transvestite

There is no comment submitted by members.


5 out of 5
0 total ratings

Other poems of EVANS

The Old Man

My journey

he said

All Of These, And More

as the nights of passion are
cooled by memory

as the street bears the weight

Us Lazy Slobs

on that day
the private company took about 7 of us,
sat us down in a conference room

A Midwinter Riddle Poem

In midwinter you will find me
Appearing better than my companion.
From a distance, at first glance,
One may mistake me for the head of Medusa!

Look At That Frog!

I don't know about you
but one of the best recollections
I have about eating at McDonalds
As a child

The Bluesman

phil walks into the bookshop,
picks up a mag from a shelf.

I tell a work colleague near me: