by Jack D. Harvey
Mary’s passion,
contrary to
the popular old poem,
was not garden, it was
a Harley-Davidson’s
hard saddle
under her ass.
Sitting astride it,
riding, riding
nowhere and
the only garden’s silver bells
and cockleshells were
tattooed on her arms.
Mother Goose, you should tell it so,
hard and true to the times
and leave the prissy miss
where you found her.
© 2022 Jack D. Harvey All rights reserved.
Click or tap here to see Jack D. Harvey’s profile.
Use the “Leave a Comment” form below to submit comments on this piece.