They rowed to the edges
of the Earth as they knew them.
The brown on the map represented when the
artist ran out of room or creativity.
To draw something other than sand
at the edges of his known reality was
certainly asking too much.
"What the fuck is this guy saying?
I'm going to sleep!"
Were the words that shot from her mouth
in her spaghetti straps and Yankee boxers.
As she gargled once more to be sure
the dick taste was gone, while perusing
Pathetic to find some nice poems about
the Weather.

03/11/2009

Posted on 03/12/2009
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