THE SWINGER

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The penis maintained it could stand on it’s head.
When it’s owner turned over, asleep on the bed,
He moved back and forth
His feet settled North –
What metal, what bearing, a true thoroughbred!  (I refuse to comment on any of the assertions in this post. Lo,TG Ed)

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This entry was written by daddyp, posted on February 1, 2011 at 6:00 am, filed under poems and tagged , , . Bookmark the permalink. Follow any comments here with the RSS feed for this post. Post a comment or leave a trackback: Trackback URL.

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