>Bottoms<

I got ’em–

booty, belled, and buck,

the latter

don’t matter

I got wicked luck,

the former

~a fine one~

in

middle one

tucked

with

up one’s

and out ones

and those made of rock—

this last one

a past one

an end to hard knocks,

the first is,

what thirst is,

at taverns and pubs…

between which

a road ditch

to rattle your hubs,

there’s barrels

*unsterile*

of perilous pears,

ingestion

in question

and best to

>beware<

like signs

mined

in sand

—lines—

best not to cross,

at own risk,

you’ll skip this,

trip coming at cost…

in end what–

is best butt,

beats deep in your chest

a love from

your heart’s bum

is better than rest.

 ©Karen Robiscoe