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For the Penis I don’t have
Penis Envy?
I don’t think so.
Come on, let’s face it,
It likes me better than you anyway.
When it’s in me, it’s as good as mine;
Therefore I retain part ownership.
Even when it’s not in me all I have to do is
get on top and it sprouts from my pelvis just as surely
as from yours, squished ecstatically,
all that puppy enthusiasm.
And the best part?
I don’t even have to deal with the drawbacks either.
You know…blue balls, occasional mid-sleep
eruptions, inconvenient hard-ons…
Not to mention, the freedom from having to fumble excuses
for any of the following: “refractory” periods, conspicuous
spooj stains, and a weakness for just about any warm, wet
place.
Yep, I can have that thing anytime I want
because of what I have. All of the time.
Blue-Collar Woman
Pays $30 an ounce for a cream that will
Conceal her surgical scars.
Makes sure she gets a pedicure once a week
Because one of her regulars has a foot fetish.
Puts up with the pain of waxing every three weeks
So her skin feels like satin when men accidentally
grope her.
Buys extra thigh-highs from the Victoria’s Secret Sale
To wear on days when her knees are all ripped up from
crawling on stage.
Carefully cuts the tags off of every piece of lingerie
Because she knows how silly an exposed tag would make her
look.
Knows that if she trips in those shoes, to simply let
herself fall
Because if she tries to prevent it, she’ll sprain an ankle.
Scans the stage for lethal patches of baby oil that
The last dancer left behind after slathering her body.
Carries anti-bacterial hand gel in her little purse along
with her tips
To get that brassy pole smell off of her skin.
Establishes a code with the waitress
So that the men who buy her drinks don’t know they’re
virgins.
Laughs every time a customer asks if there’s a big vat of
perfume in the back
That they dip each dancer in before she comes out on the
floor.
Tosses away the wad of napkins bearing useless phone numbers
That have accumulated throughout her shift.
Snaps a rubber-band around the ever thickening stack of
Business cards she keeps in her glove compartment.
Neatly separates each costume into its own Ziploc bag
So that everything is easy to locate.
Exchanges all her small bills for larger ones at the bar
But makes sure her asshole manager’s ten percent is all in
dollars.
Eating
I’ve always admired peanut butter
For its adhering qualities
And the apple for enduring despite the bad
Rap it received as the forbidden fruit
And bananas for preserving their dignity
Even after Freud
And the pomegranate for conspiring with
Hades to trap Persephone
And tomatoes for maintaining a binary
Identity in the Fruit-n-Veggie universe
Berries and grapes also have their virtues
Except they often get made into spread
Relinquishing their identity, their form
That’s about as good as a woman
Who melts in a man’s arms
Oozing through his fingers
Nothing to grasp, no tangible resistance
No satisfying pierce and chomp for the teeth
That’s another reason to admire peanut butter:
Because it puts up with jelly.
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