Dead Like Bacon
Most of the marriages around me are dead like
chewy not crispy bacon and I’m not talking
about the bacon you put in the goddamn
microwave I’m talking serious old school
skillet sizzling thick slab real pork not turkey
bacon here. Marriages are dead and not
fertilizing much of anything. Take Mark
his wife is beautiful the stuff of mythology
and I’m not talking about Medusa or Baba
fuckin’ Yaga. I’m talking Betty Boop but
with a smaller head. Mark’s wife is one
bodacious bitch but his hands were all
over my thighs as the three of us looked
up at the stars from the bed of my truck
and she was too spaced out on pineapple
wine coolers to notice. When it comes time
to find a lost jean jacket men get bitter
about it, though, bring up shit that has been
stewing in the pot since 1989 when Vanilla
Ice was all the rage and people were talking
about all the fun kinds of condom that could
be had for free if you were ballsy enough
to grab them from the basket. Women, petty
creatures that we are, get bitter about much
lesser things.
Saturday Night in Shitsville, USA
We was all just sittin' around the chickenshack shootin' the shit slammin' them moonshine shooters talkin' bout better days when stamps were licked and balls were kicked when a goddamn blaster worm screamed somethin' we no could decipher, somethin' bout how we is all a bunch of fuckin' sorry excuses for human beans.
My Lipstick on Her Left Tit
He was paying he was telling me
how wet her pussy was
and the music sucked
but she was eighteen
and on his lap and in my face
with her sweet soft tits
her abs you could balance
a tumbler of Maker's Mark on
so what else
would I do.
*coupon not valid outside The Arabic Emirates/purchase required/see back for details
