if you know what i mean


the cab driver held up a pack of dunhills
and asked if i minded
i didn’t because i did too and we lit up
smoked together through the ensuing
enveloping deepening canyon of first avenue
the sun faded further away as the buildings
loomed larger and he asked what i would
be doing tonight for valentine’s day
“nothing” i said “except throwin’ back a
couple of cold ones with my girls”
he said “that’s not the spirit” and i almost
retorted “mistresses don’t get flowers
from sugar daddies on valentine’s day
if you know what i mean” but i didn’t
because he wouldn’t and i didn’t have
the energy at eight a.m. to explain this
affair of the mind i have in the comfy
interior of my brain with a sugar daddy
who isn’t even real if you know what i mean

i wondered up the escalator if i was
the only one on it who was having dirty thoughts
about someone who i shouldn’t even be
having clean thoughts about and i smiled
at my own mischievous naughtiness and
winked at the security guard at the top
because she seemed to know
if you know what i mean
i fantasize about pageantry and melodrama
to make the database days go a little faster
and hopefully the object of my discreet
infractions will feel a twinge of me behind
his left ear as i whisper in it that i’m waiting
here for the next time to come
if you know what i mean


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