as she stares and squirms
At Wanda with her saintly smile
  and living wig of worms
I like to watch their faces fall
  as we disgust and shame them
Seeking suckers is my game
  - no longer lion taming.

Like a pink and pregnant pumpkin
  perched upon her neck
Wanda Wadkins head was hurting
  it was bitten by insects
I watched the awkward way she waddled
  walking to the pail
She always used to wash her worms
  and clean beneath her nails
I love the soul I see inside her
  but I just can't love her
Folding fat that rolls around
  like bowling balls in butter