Teeth in his Thigh
dreamed 2008/10/30 by Wayan.
|1: The Conference on Love||3 : T e e t h i n h i s T h i g h|
I can't draw at the Conference on Love.
Bold ink slashes help me hide,
But a mere sketchpad on my thigh
won't do. I need a desk as wide
as akimbo, plus good light, and I
can't take the gawkers. Too damn shy
for this Conference on Love.
2: Simple Joy
A slender girl stands up to speak.
Does she feel vulnerable too?
But a twentyish blonde, her air feline,
Now stands. From the East flew in.
She says "I can't talk freely even
at the Conference on Love. See,
my professor flew out with me--
he's among you, listening. Not
that he stalks me exactly, but--"
I empathize: in the bar today
So I'd believe her male-drool tale
Professor: "Here I am." He strides
He swells, he fills her allotted slot.
What a dick. A time-rapist! (You
see these at Conferences a lot.)
She reddens in slow burn. Oh how
she longs to celebrity-roast
Professor Publicity Pig!
She roars at last and dives, collars
It's sexy, in an awful way,
So who harasséd whom? Aw,
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