Wind, Meat loaf, & Michael Jackson

There are sometimes I sit outside and listen to the wind.
The wind talks to me.
It whispers notes of love and hate and…
That it thinks my meat loaf is worse than Michael Jackson’s nose.
So I fart…in the wind. I hope it felt the slap which that was.
Who does it think it is anyway? Insult my meat loaf, huh?
Bastard!
So I fart again, but this time…I shit my pants.
Damn it wind!
Why must you taunt me?