No men popped for them.
Not those raised to lay in playpens.
Hot topics of 'where' the men could be?
Seems to be an ongoing mystery...
To those accepting disbelief.
As if this has been buried in backyards,
And vaulted in concrete!
Instead of glaring in their faces,
Uncovered by dropped jeans.
Exposing aging butts!
Why they haven't given that up?
Why can't they see the desperate need,
For changing?
Could it be...
No one wants to touch the butts?
Or mention a clean hygiene!
Perhaps fresh thoughts of reality...
Would be a touchy subject,
That would to them demean!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem