SQUEEZE BELLY ALLEY.

More a blade of grass
Than a tree
Designed
To salivate for sin.
More than you toothless
Or me full
Of teeth
To whistle in the wind.
Between two lips
You look at me,
And stay
Like that.
You think you’re getting broader
Than you were before,
But you’re more a giraffe
Than an elephant,
I keep telling you,
To apparent applause.
You’re not over weight,
Just afraid of dissipating,
Or putting up extensions,
Or branching out
In more than
Three dimensions,
Well four if you don’t take much time.
There’s nowhere you can’t go:
No Yorkshire bars or
Snickle ways you can’t fit through,
No Cornish alleys or
Fertile valleys you can’t go down,
No manhole covers
Or latent lovers you couldn’t fall into,
Just me you can’t impress
You fat bastard.