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Men Fart
"Men fart. Get used to it."
Proudly he'd say,
Punctuated with a toot,
Then an odor my way.
I wish I could say these were
Words of a stranger,
But I live with the culprit --
And olfactory danger.
A one sided tilt and perhaps
A lift of one cheek,
Followed by thunder or
sometimes a squeak.
Shortly after we
were wed
I nearly got blasted right
out of our bed.
Since then I'm the front
whenever we spoon,
So I'm not injured
When he toots his tune
I once spied his silhouette
Bathed in moonlight
As he grabbed his right ankle and
Released one held tight
The smell so atrocious
It hung in the room
Rotten eggs by comparison
Were like sweet perfume
While it horrifies me that
He's never discreet
He acts nonchalant or
Smiles real sweet
Public or private
Never a care
If he's got to fart
Near-dwellers beware
His family, they chuckled
At these words from his bride
Then as if on cue
His father farted with pride
Guess that's my proof
The apple ain't far from the tree
"Men fart. Get used to it."
A Brown legacy.
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