Charmed, I’m Sure

I ride each day
with my brother.
We travel from hovel to hut,
dawn to dusk,
armed with a see-through shoe.
Is there no end to the
bunions, warts and hammer toes,
calluses, corns and carbuncles?
Oh the agony of de-feet.



Anchors Aweigh

She sashays across the pier
in Sweethaven,
siddles up to the sailor.
Her eyes undress the one-eyed runt.
his anchor tattoos ripple on muscular forearms.
New in town, sailor?




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