Suspending the usual mild revulsion
I feel in seeing pierced young bodies,
I asked the pretty waitress her reasons
For having put a stud in her tongue.

(I was somewhat reluctant to ask
So I wrote a nice note to her
Saying I have merely a poet’s interest
And that she need not answer)

She was delighted with the attention
And proudly thrust out her tongue
To show me three, smooth, shiny metal spheres
Proceeding, in line, toward her uvula

I made a proper and subdued exclamation,
And repeated my question.
“Oh, I don’t know – I just wanted to do it.
“I was fourteen – it was five years ago.”

I asked: Was it rebellion? Adventure? A dare?
“No, there are reasons others have, but I don’t have them.”
Which I take to mean she wishes for me to think
She has not employed her tongue and studs lasciviously.

But, nonetheless, I cannot help but imagine
Those three object sliding gently against
Some lucky fellow's phrenum:
One – Two – Three – AHHhhhh.

She received a generous tip.

12/04/2001

Posted on 12/04/2001
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