BrainauPage

I took this poetry class once.
For two weeks; was I lasted.
The prof. was all about Walt Whitman.

He probably looked liked him too.
Although, I’ve never looked it up.

So enamored with the silly idea.
“Old Walt”
standing in his mirror smelling his armpit.
I don’t remember what the poem was.

Well I’ll bet he’d love this one.
After mid-night, me awake.
and ever so gently releasing a fart
under the covers.
Next to my naked
and sleeping girlfriend.