At First Its Child's Play

At first it's child's play; an afternoon lunch
A movie, a walk in the park; nothing heavy,
Has to feel fun; it's only later, it comes undone
As you learn to run your life on a hunch;
And lunch becomes brunch, and there's a whole bevy
Of femme fatales, against which you must levy.
And they're coming in droves, and small comfy coves,
And they're everywhere, and make you feel scrunched,
And ten can fit in a 65 Chevy..
And their body heat feels like wood burning stoves,
Full of fragrant and fat luscious loaves
Of bread that you'd want to eat in large bunches
While all the femmes are still doing their crunches;
And soon as you've become much too heavy,
Your beloved gives you the old heave-ho,
And drives off then in the car, with his Ho's...

by Patti Masterman

Comments (1)

....wonderful poem, an excellent narrative ★