Flatter me and make me wriggle;
flatter me – as I don’t giggle easily
please don’t despair, keep in there
trying where it matters.
Tickle me with cursive words.
Needle me with subtle serves
of sainted ambergris disguised
as scented cactus peel.
And when I rise to take the bait
demur, defer me to another
source, refer to classic intercourse
with gentle souls of gratitude.
You know I cannot wear that cap, you
know I will not take that crap whichever
way you decorate my plate; and neither
am I gonna start it next week either!
© 2007-02-16 I.D. Carswell
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