That’s how you sell sombreros, from the bottom up, truth to tell,

Where a neighborhood girl with fine big thighs in little shorts[1]

And a Mona Lisa face has one foot up on the second step

Of her row house, her ass pushed out to traffic as she alternates

Trying on her goods–now blue, now black, now multi-colored,

Now red[2]–and turning her head to and fro like a weathervane

As I ride ‘round the block a dozen times or more

Before deciding to park, walk over, and buy a blue one,

And then ask her out for midnight shrimp at Jimmy Wu’s.


    [1]Those fine big thighs cuffed  in faded jeans,

And I’ll guess no matter how hard I try after dinner to encircle

Each leg in turn with both my hands, I just bet I never get

My thumbs and fingers to touch, there’ll be that much cocoa

Skin left to play with, that much extra flesh for my tongue 

To define the pores, follicles and indentations of.

    [2]She works in rough three- or four-minute intervals,

In circular motion about her stacks of hats for sale,

From blue to black to multi-colored to red and back again,

Slowly at first but then gaining  in clockwise  tempo,

With those legs and that ass in a muffled quiver

When they come to a temporary stop and she walks

Up the steps to rest on a shaded porch, while a guy

Far older than me collects money and replenishes

The piles of sombreros before she comes back

To the sweet action once more and her turnarounds

To passing traffic, with a salute of her left hand cupped

Just-so (to keep grazing the brim of her own sombrero).

    [1]Those fine big thighs cuffed  in faded jeans,

And I’ll guess no matter how hard I try after dinner to encircle

Each leg in turn with both my hands, I just bet I never get

My thumbs and fingers to touch, there’ll be that much cocoa

Skin left to play with, that much extra flesh for my tongue 

To define the pores, follicles and indentations of.

    [1]She works in rough three- or four-minute intervals,

In circular motion about her stacks of hats for sale,

From blue to black to multi-colored to red and back again,

Slowly at first but then gaining  in clockwise  tempo,

With those legs and that ass in a muffled quiver

When they come to a temporary stop and she walks

Up the steps to rest on a shaded porch, while a guy

Far older than me collects money and replenishes

The piles of sombreros before she comes back

To the sweet action once more and her turnarounds

To passing traffic, with a salute of her left hand cupped Just-so (to keep grazing the brim of her own sombrero).

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