I hid inside the baby-making boutique
Rubbed my hands together greedy
Lick my fat pink lips in the absence of others.
My face all bite and a nibble.
Flashing lights when I walk,
Man with eyes like sesame seeds
Unfurls his belly button and lays out
Glorious lint on the picnic table.
Voyeuristic to look
Last week, it was gravediggers.
Now this.
Rub my nose in the carpet when he's home
That seems to do the trick. Can't stop.
So instead, pluck out my fingernails
Entrust them to man across hall
For safe-keeping.
I wonder, often, at nuns.
His choice for me, mon coup de coeur,
When he found out I was filthy,
My daddy drowned me in the river,
Like a feral clawless cat. Dares
But only when I'm not looking.
I nibble strange men's choices
'Cause they dip their toes in sugar
Kiss my head, splay my shins,
Crack my back, then demure.
If, awake, I'm just my daddy's fantasy,
What does that make you,
When I'm asleep?
Enough bs. No need to know about all that. I woulda thought that was the point o' nuns, anyhow. But thanks for reading. And thanks 
Don't you sometimes feel like John Travolta, but then worry if you say something, everyone's gonna want you to do the dance? I do.
The fact that there's just like a month left till Halestorm comes out with another album is probably one of my favorite things about this summer. I mean, man. This woman, you know?
I know I've told you all about this wonderful man before many times. But this song inspired the story I'm just finishing today, so it seems appropriate. :)
