Plumbing lines never get me horny
But yet that’s what the poor sap
Trying to pick me up prattled
About for at least half an hour
Before you came in with your hips
Directing the tempo of the music
Pouring out of the jukebox
I thought fast—trying to figure out
A strategy to get away from the guy
Trying to snake my uterus
When you clogged his advances
Sliding your thighs on top of mine
Once you had flushed a chair out for yourself
You climbed off my lap
Neither one of us willing to so openly test
Aphrodite’s patience.
Jessica Hylton writes most of her poetry while driving. She has wrecked three cars, but she finished her dissertation. Her work has recently been featured in Cliterature, Visceral Uterus, and The Alarmist.
