Mama Wade

Mama Wade,
Mellow mammy of the morn,
Hug me,
Like an old teddy bear.
Show me,
Your humid pores,
Skin of black bosom mirth.

Articulate my member envy
Into your steaming oatmeal mouth
And let me feel the earth folds
For some "tra la la"
On your face.

Mama Wade runs a flophouse.
It's only 400 dollars an Oxnard month
And all their disability checks (mental)
Keep the proverbial kids
By your breast.

You're a lucky lady,
Mama Wade