Mom Pig Poems

Mom drives us to our Auntie’s farm
so we can run and play.
She thinks it will be no harm
for us to spend the day.  

Muriel...

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I love this barbeque stuff, the little piggy said.
His father rolled his sow eyes back into his head.
You know those are porch chops he whispered...

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My mother bought me a money box
When I was still in ankle socks 
It’s in the shape of a pig 
To this day that pig...

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We played on all weather turf which was mud and a few sods of grass

Dribbled like Pele and Eusebio in old boot for that one...

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Three wild frolicking hairy unkempt hillbillies
Jettisoning off their wonderful new pet
Doing banshee yells and hog calls
Happily playing with their newest mate
Where is Piggy? They asked...

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In 1985, we had three daughters.
They were 5, 10, and 11.
So life was fun, of course.
Each daughter had a gerbil.
Flopsy, Crumbone and Taylor.
Don’t ask me...

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Although gay women are attractive,
Can their love be counted on,
A chemistry that’s non-reactive,
Oligarchs of Amazon?

They face perhaps same traps that we do
Think of men as...

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