Sunday, May 25, 2014

Poem: Tip


Doubletop spiral a female boards the
sidewalk with boots up to there,
shorts down to here, leaving a
two-inch ribbon of flesh so
hormonally loaded that one
begins to understand certain
elements of frathouse behavior
such as the time I visited my
brother at cow stammer stepsalong
and found the windows taped
over with newspaper for the
stripper who had just departed or
the time I took Rob to a club and
he could not believe that a
place existed where one could
insert one’s fingers beneath the
hem of a strange woman’s
bikini so long as those same
digits contained a piece of
American paper currency what’s
next said he with the eyes of an
owl at a surprise party,
transit buses to the moon?

From the collection Fields of Satchmo 
Photo by MJV

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