Fat Bellied Man

CATEGORY

life

Fat bellied man

It seems we have a

Miss

Under

Standing

What you huntin?

Nothing in there for you

The vault is bare

How dare

                     You

          Not

                            Be aware

I was inclined

                                    To go out and dine

                                                     Dressed to the nines

The corner fish fry was nice

                                        just a bit of advic

I don’t do tartar

                         Only tar-tar

I thought you understood

                              The rules of this game

Those whiskers I don’t purposely

Choose to inflame

        But Everything is a process

A test

Now was that really your best

                     Aside from clutching your leather so tight

If you had looked up from the pennies  

                                     That you locked away with that key

You would have recognized my grace

And would have known

There was no need to angst

The night was on me