- Non-Erotic Poetry
- Ms. Passion Play
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It shouldn't matter, I suppose,
the scarring from some surgery
with cantaloupes the size of those.
Indeed, I'd gladly sell my soul
for this serpentine Salomé
who calls herself Ms. Passion Play
on whom I tuck a dollar bill.
"Why, you cheapfuckingskate," said she,
"Rate's a fivefuckingspot or more!"
And when I say "Why, Ms. Tmesis!"
I'm now a "fucking doryphore."
"What the hell's a doryphore?"
I say to her, but soon recall
Ms. Insouciant PhD,
who also teaches English Lit
at junior college just like me.
I meant to say I.
I did. I really did.
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