Fat Bellied Man
Fat bellied man
It seems we have a
Miss
Under
Standing
What you huntin?
Nothin in here for you
The safe is bare
How dare
You
Not
Be aware
that
I was inclined
To go out and dine
Dressed to the nines
The corner fish fry was nice
just a bit of advic
I don’t do tartar
Only tar-tare
I thought you understood
The rules of this game
Those steam-sealed pockets
I don’t choose
to purposely inflame
But
Everything is a process
A test
Now was that really your best
Aside from clutching your leather so tight
If you had looked up from the pennies
You stowed away with that key
You would have recognized my grace
And would have known
There was no need to angst
The night was on me
Copyright © Gabrielle Jordan | Year Posted 2023
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