dan's poem

nature's opera raged
against rhonda's
angry, asshole ways

but there
despite lacking titles
of
prime minister,
president,
or just asshole,
daniel's pink boxers
stood.

unfazed by dilemmas at hand
beer cans collected from the
fridged, ice cube emulating pool
in hand
mother fucking weed
burning
in hand
carrots being munched
passing
hand in hand
"that's what she said"

boxers don't make the man,
but pink boxers man,
are you fucking serious?