by Sandra S Corona
Sunday, May 29, 2005
Rated "R" by the Author.
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Neglected, desperate housewives of the lily pad rebel!
I squat here in slime …chewing flies sublime …
will he show in time?
The Slime Ball’s tonight. He promised ‘delight’--
that we’d waltz to the Dragonflies wail.
Though I know there’s no way in Hades, hell,
that he’d find time for me … might as well go solo.
“We flitter, croon tunes, fans on the hot rocks flock.
These babes are green. I’m taking numbers. What!
In the ball a babe waltzes in white. Hot!
Shirley, she’s single but can she fox-trot?”
(Those Dragonflies who don’t sing best take wing
when frogs drink, belch, croak, their tongues flicker, fling.)
Under pale, full moon other pairs dance, swoon.
Frog showed up to croon.
“Too much man for one! I’d rather have fun.
Why tie myself down? It doesn’t make sense!
Commitment--prefer sitting on the fence.
Hey, guys! Speak up! Let’s hear your comments!” “Go! Rolo!”
“That ‘Bud’ isn’t getting ANY wiser!
Freebies will dry up when he denies her!
Funny old bull frog. Too bad he’s a fool!
Imagine ‘mating’ with a random tool.”
(Those Dragonflies don’t speak with a forked-tongue.
Their ‘stage’ is a cage; their pay is freedom.)
Shirley stood, bloated. Slime oozed as she stomped
on the stage. He squawked.
“I hope Rolo croaks …” Raspily he choked.
“Close your hatch, girls! Let them wallow in mire!
Soon they’ll come running aching with desire. Say, ‘No’. ‘Go!’”
“Rolo loved Budwiser … Shirley Coors won.
He was a jerk loyal to no one.
A memoir—lily pads that rock, let’s hop!
He who crosses woman … will always flop!”
(Those Dragonflies were set free … still they sang
a little bit country with the cutest twang.)