Potato Poem
Peeled lively this hot tot
Getting dressed for dinner
Scrubbed and rubbed; soft sensations
Listening to a bubbling pot
Hands of the cook supporting buck assed naked
Whistling a tune as he grabbed a spoon
Looking for some sour cream and butter
Thinking though, not so much the tuber, rather,
of
her,
the neighbor watering flower pots.
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