Mamma’s a Runway Queen
Mamma’s got ass for days. Her ass rolls into tomorrow; into next week. She gave birth to me in stride, sashaying down the runway in three-inch heels. Calves made of rock, and her slim figure shoots up like building steel. She’s immovable.
Daddy’s a Gun in the War
“BANG,” like he always said. Daddy always knew he was right. When he was wrong, he was right. “BANG BANG BANG,” he told me before he left, and you can’t argue a man with that kind of philosophy, you just listen.