Man without End


by Figgie Creamcheese

THAT man has no ass.
I can't Not-Look--
his saggy genes, the scamper
of seam from left to right, trying
to crack some middle ground. Absolute
emptiness of pockets made ironic
by two choices: slouch or strut,
both demanding.
''Yeah? So?''
I'm amazed
how so much is intended
with so little understood. His hard-
heeled footfalls carry crotch
always forward, always hard-
on to the next Big Deal.
His manly thoughts
must be just about fucking
windmill high to be so
unaware of the fallen
belt, the usurping position
of flagrant waist,
of posterior being

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