PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

and the stripper

working for tips

follows me

into the bathroom

and locks the door

“Can I do anything for you?”

She coos softly.

I didn’t ask her

to join me

but my effort

to get away from her

is minimal at best

I can tell she won’t

take no for an answer

and wants to please me

My eyes look at her

and then trail down

her body

She’s done this before

I suspect

as she unzips me

and goes to work

I lean against the sink

and listen to the music

playing in the bar

Then I hear police sirens

and they’re right outside

the flashing lights

reflect against the curtains

and I think to myself

“Now would be a good time

to tickle my prostate.”

and like a psychic

she reads my mind

and does just that

I finish my business

as I hear the cops

crashing the party

unfortunately

the party poopers

have arrived

and I hear a knock

on the bathroom door

I pull up my pants

and we both walk out

I have a grin on my face

and the cops likely know why

but couldn’t prove it in court

I would imagine that

this is among the better ways

to go to jail—

just pray to hell

the other chaps in the joint

don’t see the smile

and misinterpret the signal

6-12-96