writings on life

Ms. Pottymouth

She was long with flowing blonde locks

Jean shorts and a black top 

Carrying her purse over the shoulder

A cell phone in her right hand

She was on the move like one in command

Though her shoulder bore a purse 

Her speech was terse

I started to admire her but then she opened her mouth 

A curse!

I wondered who she was talking to

She crossed the street with her long body

Jabbering on 

Her mouth was a potty 

All the car windows were down on that hot day

Everyone stared as she crossed 

I thought to myself, She must be someone’s boss

Oh, she was lithe 

As she headed to the Wal-Mart

Spewing obscenities the whole way 

Her words were to her aura as cigarette smoke to a lung

The conversation stung 

As I sat at that red light 

Her beauty took flight

When she got to the other side

So did the Aston Martin beside me 

When the light turned green

It was like something out of a James Bond movie

In that car was a modeling agent 

But he let her go, for her mouth was tainted 

Soiled, like used porcelain

Worse yet, she sat on the other side and lit a cigarette

One response to “Ms. Pottymouth”

  1. Wonderful descriptive wording!

    Liked by 1 person

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