Bloobabonga Fogle sat under glass space stairs..he would ogle under skirts of women never
share..unshared primal wanted mogul money for his care..made a plan..bribed the man..started renting chairs..approach came from politic game money on the hoof..said he must lease to keep the peace in systems on the roof..you know story glory, story shame as story said..he started selling kinky sex in social mix sold self for gold..script read..
somewhere in a country rooted Fogle name..a child second cuz to what was sold for the game..little cuz hungers, his mama lovesick sad..wish rich cousin Bloob would help when it became..godawful bad..
somewhere lay in pieces..father of the child..’execute this criminal’..soldiers raped wife wild..somewhere a daughter..wishes love so fine..leaning in a door selling herself..for love she pines..She had read an article of ‘Fogle Industries’..stock went up with a new gimmick called the ‘jiggle-sneeze’..
Back in land of milk and honey greed and monied ways..Bloobabonga
wonders where his son is these days..how could that matter?..everything is fine..got a great big monorail..with eighty neon signs..
selling what is not mine..
Love finds the man..who finds his woman on the stairs..to sell love is to lose ability to care!..each joy is love to share..Peace T@cftd
©.AC.7.4.12.arr././ This is a poem of fiction story. It represents nothing and is for each reader.