deepundergroundpoetry.com

Hens

Are those his daughters?
Or is this dude a pimp?
A little big, but healthy
Cleavage sticking out of tight daisy dukes
Doesnít seem like appropriate attire
For their shape, but it is
Something about buxom girls
That gets a man thinking
About certain things
Mainly fucking
Just some sort of pussy in general
And maybe thereís something
About a buxom girl
That gives you the idea
That it could happen
That this dude is actually pimping out
His own daughters
And Iím contemplating the price
Because itís been ten years
And itís about god damn time
Right?

Itís just trying to work it out
Every night
But you just get drunk and high
And itís alright
But itís just lacking
On the backend
Iím looking at the bric-a-brac
Sitting atop my CD mantle
A stuffed animal Batman
I won with my sister
Sitting atop a carved fighting rooster,
I got from my uncle, like itís riding a horse
A Mercedes Benz car clock
And an Indian in a barrel ashtray
Where if you lift the barrel off,
The Indianís wooden dick springs erect
Like mine used to do
But now I got the hesitation blues
Always too defensive
When one should always be on the offense
Even if it offends
Why pretend?
The next time I see that dude,
The chicks arenít there
And the next time after that,
The same thing
Heís just another dude
Who hangs out at the food trucks
Who were those chicks?
And why were they following him around so intently?
Who knows?
He was probably just telling them
The best trucks to eat at
But somehow I donít believe that
Iíll always wonder why they were there
And what he has to do with all that
And all I have to do is ask
Because I see him all the time
But Iíll never ask
And he wonít remember
And eventually Iíll just forget about it
Thatís the problem with having time on your hands,
Every little thing has a meaning
And it usually means anxiety
And regret for some reason

Put a pinch of that seasoning
On the white trash risotto
No one ever knows what we go through
Because itís just not interesting
Itís just banal survival for most of us
We donít know how to gamble
And when we did, we lost
Big time
Taught us to never do it again
Just make do with what was given
And the problem with whatís given
Is itís never enough
Just barely adequate
What is won
What is taken
Is where the living truly takes place
Is where glory and dominion lie
I read that on some blogs
So when I saw those healthy broads
Out by the food trucks the other day,
I didnít wonder
I simply popped in a piece of gum
And approached







Taurek
Written by Taurek
Published
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