Sunday, February 20, 2011

The Rear End of Truth- Peter Magliocco

To think it all boils down
to how big your hindquarters are
cutting down fatty tissue
from girth of butt-bulbous cheek
she winks, scalping away pretense
in fashion flaky hot pants
embroidered with a MTV logo
to reveal her corrupt flesh-
essence of pimpled red scratches
extensively grid-locked
by a rife effusion
of strangely abstruse tattoos.
The food vendor nearby smirks
at me for using my camera phone
to capture Loretta mooning us
from the street corner where she
impersonates a crack-addled vixen
during her elongated promenading.
She declines taking food for sex,
thus grossly insulting the vendor
who debates calling the police
& reporting her for indecent X-posing,
but refrains -- he's had a good eyeful;
black dudes nod appreciatively too,
from the downtown Vegas motels
Loretta claims to be fortuneteller at.
"To think it all boils down to baring booty,"
the vendor sighs. I immediately send
Loretta's picture to a hungry sex fiend I know.
Dumb ass cookies feed you shit, I caption it.

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