Big Talker

Cherry stems ain’t nothin’
My girl knots tree trunks with her tongue

When she talks dirty her chartreuse words glow like a
homing device in
murky waters

Oysters squirm from their 1/2 shells,
Aroused by her presence they
slither off raw bars to reach her plate

Whips & chains
Handcuffs &; leather
Huddle together quietly in
corners of closets like
scared children
Afraid she might find them
Afraid she might use them for
something obscene

Little black dresses?
Naughty lingerie?
Trust me, That ain’t nothin’
I’ve examined her wardrobe
That’s nunnery attire for chaste little ladies
I kid you not

    Quiet! she’s
    comin’…
You never heard nothin’ man

I’d better get outta here 
She can smell my confessions
You’ll need a good autopsy of me
if she senses the
slightest treason

Hey
but call me,
She’s got a single friend
and I think she’s lookin’