She says she goes both ways,
but won't give up one
just to get the other.
"I need to get dick" she says,
shocking me as she
says it,
her hands in the air,
rattling around in
the phone static
the way voices used
to on long distance calls
when I was a kid,
her life spread out
before me like a feast
I'm too scared to touch,
my imagination
filling in
all the blank spaces
of this erotic paint
by number piece,
she in my head,
the vision I see across the table
from me once a week,
every Tuesday, and not the harlot
she claims when she speaks
like this in private,
deliberate or maybe not trying to shock me,
and I am shocked to think
she talks like this to sound
more street wise that she is,
though in truth,
she is already having been
through the grind of
the music scene
and pick up bars,
she needs what she needs
which ever way that is.
