Who are these women
Biking by,
Immaculately disheveled,
Whose locks are grooved
By wind
Unfurling in broken sheafs
Like erotic flags
Or perfect curling waves
Of perfume
Who are these women
Striding down Alberta street
In vacuum sealed jeans
That hug every ounce of precious leg
Causing some primal want
To lovingly dimple their butts
With a single
Canine
Tooth
The 500's 