She rambled in like pickup sticks, her hair all ragged wicked wild
And called the regulars to tits, she thrust that bricktop suckle, child.
'I'm come,' spake she, 'for sweating fun,
'For eloquence and catching come. Who here among you knows the eldritch ways of knocking legs?'
The old men all just shook their heads;
They peered in beer, and downed the dregs.
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2 comments:
Nice and visual and somewhat visceral. Lovely work, sir.
Visceral indeed. I feel in in my innards.
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