'How old are you', he asked, <br />it was not easy to discern <br />mostly because of mountains, <br />ranges, even, like the Appalaches, <br />of lard and jello covered in loud tones <br />of youngish pink and fluffy, ruffled up <br />not to deceive, oh no but why? <br />She answered with a gesture of one finger, <br />it was the neighbour of the one that flashed a ring. <br />It was her answer, though I doubt and so does he <br />that she would have been happy then, or ever.<br /><br />Herbert Nehrlich<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-illegal-question/
