Or is it to fart,
My cheeks part,
Pressure on everything below my heart,
Stay away if you are smart…
Before the horse came the cart,
Before “Wal” there was K-mart,
From my rear that smell did depart,
To the public in general therein I did impart…
Must have been that prune tart,
Through my intestines it went like a dart,
Almost did blow me from the inside out, apart,
This poem, such as it is, had nothing to do with Descartes…
©
Love Tinka
regards Joyce