by Mary F. Lee
(11/12/08)

Give me a curly strip of lemon in my gin,
give me a fat wedge of lime to suck
when I drink another shot of something
cool and salty under my lazy tongue.

Pay attention to your smoky whiskey shot;
it has an ocean in it, too much to swallow
all at once, like me, too much to weather
like a force of nature that blows down your door.

Wipe up the whiskey you spilled in my lap
or lick it off my flowery orange skirt;
the vision I'm having while I listen to jazz
is something you'll want to know about.

I don't want a quick fuck, I want it slow
as you can go while I sing to you in my head;
there are four hooks on my big-tit bra,
you should free one every hour like a taunt.

I want love-making, sexing, grand unification theory;
I want the bitter lemon in my drinks to lead me
from the first sweet swallow of your mouth
to coming like a major chord in church on Sunday

and I'll sing the sad blues in my head like Billie
or Bessie or Lena or Ella or any other woman
who finds herself in the arms of a man
who might not love her, and she almost doesn't care.

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