Heyyyyyy, street meat,
Yeah, you.
I see you standing there…..
Damn you’re hot.
I like your white buns sticking out there,
Stacked is what I call it.
You look good on that corner,
Calling out to me.
What’s that?
How much?
I’ll cross the street, take a look.
Well, I dooooo like what you’re selling.
And I can smell you from here, baby.
Hey now, slow down,
I’ll touch it when I’m ready.
It’s so big and steamy,
I’ll just lick the tip,
You like that, don’t you? I do.
HA! HA! Aren’t all Italians spicy?
I get you, baby.
Simmer down while I put some sauerkraut on it.
Some mustard? Onions?
Awwww….yeah, baby, street meat.
Damn.
Drinkers with Writing Problems 