Friday, July 27, 2007

Your porcine, puffed shirt
Wrestled free from your slacks,
That sagged like drenched sails
From your blubbery ass.
I must have been masked
By my thorough disgust,
For you cut right before me
to pay for your lunch.
Shocked numb by malodor,
I could not remark.
Count this poem as revenge,
You gooey bismark.
And should we meet again for our calorie fix
KARATE, KARATE, KARATE kicks.