Corporate Kisses

remember?
the taste of that first sweet kiss
down there, in the green green grass
where the laughing brook dances

you crooned and clark gabled me
with tales of riches and enchanted adventure
while i clenched my tender thighs,
hoping my blush went unnoticed

and to your pictures of the Riviera,
as i swayed and swooned into your gilded arms,
i swear i almost peed!

and though you never said
-and how could i be?
that i was your first,
your kisses told me i was

then there was that gold watch,
the big wedding,
where all your family crimsoned my pale cheek
with their kisses of blood-let deceit

and that first year together,
when never once did i burn your supper
or scorch your shirt with my iron
well, it seemed bliss enough
as i never really believed
the Riviera part anyway

and chagrin, did i barely
as time and again
you bent me over
in hopes of making me
your sporting whore

but then, the plated watch
began to keep time
with the loss of its charm
whilst your family forgot my name,
but not that i was your whore

and darling master, my bewitching lord,
is it then any wonder
that a shirt got scorched
and the soup turned tasteless?

now, in the shadows of the dim fire light,
i watch you in your den
all brandy and robe
with a pipe full of silent smoke

while outside on the porch
gathered with the moths,
your whores line the rail, fill your swings,
and wave to garner your attention

how can they know
that this haggard wretch
peeling your potatoes
was once, as well, a shimmer of beauty
in the eye of your needle?

so while the iron burns through
yet another fine shirt
while the bread falls flat in the oven,
i glance to the window framing
your porch full of fools
and know
my time draws near

and here, in my final knowledge,
i spit in your potatoes
and tell you, with bags nearly packed
you're a lying bastard!

horses can't fly
and you'd fuck your own mother
if she wasn't filled with the clap

(in case you're wondering, this is a love poem to employers)