Monday, October 27, 2008

You can't take my last twoel

We met in a toilet down in the park.
It was an accident-not usual do.
His face shown like monster in the near dark.
Which, as I recall, should have been my first clue.
He asked me to give him the last towel from the top.
Then yelled so loud with that noisy throat.
That I couldn’t resist. So I gathered my stuff.
And we pushed and we pushed till we cracked up.

1 comment:

gitte said...

you are too much :-)