Nude Mood

Pause and take a moment to ruminate
On your first acquaintance with the earth.
Yes, indeed, may I illuminate
The momentous occasion of your birth!
For in that very wrinkle in time,
Not one could replace the wondrous grandeur
Of God’s magnificent, crowning design.
Eyes gazed upon you with unabashed candor.

Foreigners rushed in droves to glimpse your smooth, satin bottom.
Fingers and lips probed at your every nook and cranny.
Your mother wore a tired grin, appearing like swollen flotsam.
Perhaps she brandished a pained look due to a throbbing fanny.
Within days, you were whisked away to your new, fluid-less haven.
Positive words surrounded you like alcoholics a bottle of booze.
The one who bore you was suddenly expected to be a selfless, motherly maven!
Yet, soon fatigue and frustration set in as well as the post-baby blues.

Oh, the joys of motherhood--of being responsible for a child!
Oh, the brevity of a mindless babe so meek and so very mild!

Praise the Lord for the Billboard!

What’s the purpose of a prodigious sign on a stick in the air?
What’s the pull that inevitably draws the driver’s eyes up there?
Is it for the dangerous type that dares to avert his eyes from the road?
Or does it serve to distract the passenger from his alluring urge to drop a load?
At the next Krystal Burger commode?
Perhaps this towering placard is to serve as a pretentious proposal to the one he adores.
Or to showcase the next town’s “finest” whores.
Maybe this public posting would predict, “If you’d flown Baton Rouge, you’d be home by now.”
Suppose a self-righteous church sign should depict a judgment on the small-town lowbrow.
At any rate, the billboard is an American standard that grabs the attention of the apathetic onlooker.
Much to the chagrin of the desperate and forgotten, hitchhiking hooker!