I wonder if the other tourists at famous cultural sites assume I’m a serious scholar because I take a lot of photos and stand around staring intently at the art a lot
when really I’m just trying to think of a ass or big naturals joke for my weird internet friends
Look at how gloriously these dummy-thicc centaur asses are illuminated by the rosy tendrils of dawn.
Suddenly I want to write a sonnet.
Any sonnet-writers in the house tonight?
Moreover, Telemachus, Hephaestus' dummy thick centaurs have set
greater fear inside my heart—
you may drink
too much wine and then things get yicky.
That would shame the feast, and
disgrace your courtship. For the clap of dat ass by itself
can draw a man to goon it.
Me trudging through 90+ degree Berlin with my daughters, toting our suitcases…
Ask my German fluent eldest, “That says nut roastery, right?”
Her: “Yes, why?”
Me: “Heh…”
