Possibilities

Pucker for the purple swollen pickle,
the pretty, pungent, practical part,
a place private, yet public:
proceed to progress in partaking of personal pleasure . . .
Pick me apart,
plunge that prestigious pickle –
purge my plaster-cast-soul of its protective covering
play, play, play,
pretend to forget the past, plagued with practice
and pursue my partial purity
and press, and permeate, and pave, and paddle –
make me pale for want of pleasure –
penetrate with your fleshy peninsula,
persuade my pink pout . . .

My point?
I am pleading for the peak of precocious passion.
            –  9/9/91