Poetry

 

The Lap Dance Discovery

Poet: Amanda Lee-Plaisance

 

Canít enter the club, itís too late
She turns her back on bar stools and disco lights
The drone of sports casters mix with topless-bar boogie-woogie
All of it dissipates as we walk across the street
 
Two men run out and say that she promised
A private lap dance, tonight
I noticed they both had reserved seats
On their left hand finger
 
Weíre shuttled into a trailer office
I see family pictures dispersed between old fishing lures
These kids wonít see their daddy before bed-time, tonight
 
Iím on guard
Confused on if Iím trying to keep people from coming in,
Or if Iím supposed to make sure these guys donít hurt my Chicken
You see, We never had a safety word.
 
They said she had to dance to three songs
We only had a radio
 
She was still grinding during the commercials
I could hear the chair banging over and over
Against the wall
Her naked flesh
Hands holding her thighs and ankles
We didnít have a safety word
 
She had a yeast infection so bad her vagina spat out the suppositories
We had to roll down the car windows to clear out the rotting stink
I donít remember what we bought with that death money
Maybe it was fuel for a road trip out of that trailer park,
Far away from dodgy lap dance appointments
 
I got left in a Buffalo blizzard and continued on my way
I know she went back there,
Without a safety word.
 
1998 amanda

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