The shorter your shorts are
the faster it looks like you're going,
until they get so short
I can see the crescents of your ass
peeking out like complimentary glazed biscuits
in a white racing striped powder blue bread basket
on a table at a restaurant
I know I could never afford to eat at,
but that I sometimes walk by and pretend not to see.
Then it doesn't matter how hard you work them legs,
cause you're moving in slow motion to my eyes.
