The Upper Foot

Well, did you fuck her? I mean that hot attorney
Who promised you a cookie if you could beat her at chess.
Who won, by the way? Those knights were wheeling dangerously close.
And can you please explain why you announced
For the entire all-night diner to hear and turn on their barstools,
“My asscrack is just an ecological hazard now.” Oop,
I've gone and said it too loud, now everyone's looking.
See how vulgar it was, Oscar? Yes, I remember the newspapers came,
How we all huddled up in that farthest bathroom stall,
But there's no way you left the world's single longest poop
Flemished round that toilet bowl. We all saw it together;
Photographs won't prove a thing.

Anyway, I'm more curious how your night progressed.
You two, already plastered, left arm in arm through the back.
I peeked through those blinds when I heard you two arguing
In the parking lot about who was better to drive.
Your slacks were down around your ankles, and she
Was rummaging through your wallet for hotel coupons. Then
A screech and a puff of exhaust. But what happened next?
Oscar, you dog! What was it like? I'm sure she came.
I mean describe her pussy for me in detail. Oh god,
Was it really so hairy? Was it really such a floppy, dangly pussy?
Yes, love, some more coffee would be fine. Good, good,

But please let me stop you right there. (Please, god, I hate that word),
I mean would you please stop lying to your dear old friend?
She's a chess master, Oscar, and eats her own laxative cookies.
Sure, you're a lusty billy-goat still. Yes, I agree you probably are
About eighteen percent sperm by body weight. But none of it's yours!
Come on, it's no big secret. For one, you're an artist, and
Art is for faggots. An abomination, Oscar, and you wouldn't know this,
But that attorney has the words “I don't give cookies to monsters”
Tattooed on the circumference of her asshole. Well, because
I fucked her myself. Yes, that night, if you really must know.
I think I'll have some pie. Would you like some pie?
I don't know. You probably sucked off the concierge,
But her pussy was smooth and smelled faintly of fruit.

Oh, don't go, Oscar! You can't go yet! I still want you to picture
(And you can thank me for this later) what to my mind
Would make just a gem for one of your video projects.
I was feeling very cinematic, which of course by then she was
Too unconscious to appreciate. Are you listening, Oscar?
I had been preparing this line while I was in the bathroom.
I don’t know what she did to me, but, shit on the cross, I had to
Hold the wall. You know, very few people know how race-horses
Pee. But I came out, nonchalantly drying my hands on a towel,
And there she was, sprawled like a ragdoll in her lingerie,
On the dirty carpet, her dark hair matted to her sticky face,
And I said, “I think this is the beginning...” Yes, give us the check.
Are you fucking insane, Oscar? I'm footing this bill. Ah,
I said, “I think this is the beginning of a beautiful lawsuit.”