After the Girl in the Bathroom Called the Cops

Just a peek—
Another smell, touch
taste, bite—
She left me in Summer
because I liked to crawl
on my hands and knees,
sniff the hems of women’s
skirts like a dog. Luckfe1f64b599ed42caf657a7b99a0ee401
once found me a dame
without panties, and I
slithered up to where
her thighs met, licked
a single petal from her
rose bush, wilted on my
panting tongue. Winter
months, I adapt to wardrobe
changes. Denim can’t hold
prehensile penis, wrapping
itself around pear bottoms,
slipping between the cracks.