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“Batter Up”

I cast my inquisitive gaze her way

That girl over there, standing by the telephone with a friend

Promenading her ass for all to see

A pleasant sight for the eyes, any eyes, mine in particular, to feast upon

Though what I see isn’t all that there is to see

A truly hideous beast hidden beneath a pasted smile

And then it happened

Our gazes passed ever so slightly

And paused

Each side showing explicit intentions to stand, our, ground

A stirring from each side, undeniably

But though I was caught in her gaze my better sense told me not, to, proceed, don’t, dare, proceed

So I didn’t, and with good reason

Like a painting whose inherent beauty becomes ever less so the closer that you creep, the closer that I crept to that telephoned “thing” the more I realized that there was true ugliness hidden not so far below

And though her front-facing derriere swung for miles and miles around for all to see, I was long out of THAT batter’s box

And then it happened, her smile got all crocked

Because she knew it

Knew my game explicitly

Because she’d been there, done that, and vowed to never play it again

And usually she didn’t really have to as most men fell right down to their knees the moment that they spotted her, besotted by her, and so they usually crawled right on over to greet her, to meet her, to get the better of her

But rarely did they

She was too cleaver

For their weak lusty endeavors

Experience was her all

And she took, them, in, and, spit, them, out, ground, out

Not me though, no way was I going to play that victim game, my knees remained locked in position because I was in full control

Her gaze was fading fast, seems she didn’t play the “not bitten” game, life was far too short for that run-around play

Ready to harvest, but no one to harvest, she gave her friend a knowing glance, but that glance of hers didn’t last long as rising up on the escalator towards the playpen above was the handsomest man that ever existed, or so I imagined that she so believed because she gazed a little too long for her own hunting good

Entrancement shot out of her lookers and she licked, her, lips in preparation for to the coyest of smiles imaginable

Game on, or not, only time will tell if this time good times will prevail and if not…..

error: Copyright 2022 Christopher Little. All rights reserved.