Although I have done many things
my family would not be proud of,
soliciting a prostitute is not among them,
and of this fact, I have mixed feelings.
As a poet, I am aware
that I may not be doing all that is expected of me.
But my gap in work history
is not the manifestation
of deep-seeded hubris
or moral posturing.
I simply lack sufficient training
as there has yet to be
any definitive body of work
on the proper etiquette of such services.
I.E.,
What does one do
while the aforementioned prostitute
puts his or her clothes back on?
Do you watch in silence,
or lay in bed
and talk nice about the weather?
Do you tip?
Do you give a prostitute
a good night hug?
To these questions and more
I propose a swift resolution
as to the standards of practice,
and to this end
I met a viable candidate
just this morning.
For after the doctor
removed his finger from my rectum
and threw away the gloves,
he sat stone-faced and cross-legged,
the consummate professional,
while I rather shamefully
pulled up my pants,
tucked in my shirt,
and with lubricant
still running down my leg,
transitioned seamlessly
into the next order of business.
Awaiting your response,
Senor Shucks Pigknuckles,
Professional Consultant Extraordinaire
