Poem: The Slug

A giant slug of a woman,
dressed in an unbecoming tan
and excrement brown,
left a stinking trail of air
that wafted behind her
A hint of cherry
squeezed through her stench

I looked up from the safety
of my counter
The slug,
looked into my eyes suggestively
her cracked lips
wrapped and twirled around
a red blow-pop

Her teenage daughter
should have been embarrassed
by her mother’s dirty cleavage
and fraying mini skirt
—-but she wasn’t

I looked down,
completed the sale
less further eye contact

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