I think that it may only make sense
That when Jamie does a naked dance,
Her butt moves in time
To the music’s rhyme.
Or perchance it moves with assonance.

By Ashley

Auguste packed a book of poems and a couple of tuna salad sandwiches, and he and Jamie strolled down to the bluff. Auguste cleaned off a bench, seated himself, and opened the book of illustrated poetry.

Jamie stepped nearer the edge of the bluff.

“The bay’s down there somewhere,” she announced, “but all these big trees are blocking the view.”

“My view is just about perfect,” Auguste informed her. “If you’d just lift your dress in the back it would be completely perfect.”

“Ha, fat chance of that,” Jamie scoffed, but then she lifted her dress.

“That’s great,” said Auguste, “now to make it even more perfecter, spread your ass cheeks.”

“Oh no, that’s going too far,” Jamie said.

“Okay, then come over here and I’ll do it for you.”

A pair of lovebirds perched on one of the tall trees admired the view.

“But why did she take off her pretty dress?” one asked.

“Probably so it wouldn’t get all spermy.”

“That makes sense,” said the first bird. “Look, I think they’re both about to come. Shall we fly down and get a worm’s eye view?”

“Let’s!”