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The Hot Plate

is discreetly located
in a warehouse on the
west side of Chicago

for twenty dollars
I'm able to lay
beneath a glass table
next to two corporate
types wearing Armani
and Verizon

the woman approaching
the table is naked
save for stiletto heels
and lacy white gloves
she's a sallow skinned
brunette with collapsed
veins and a prolapsed
she doesn't even look
at us as she hunkers
on top of the table

when she shits
it's watery and anticlimactic

I feel cheated

three months later
at Tallywhacker's
just outside Dallas

twenty five dollars pays
for a Brazilian woman
with mutilated breasts
and no English skills

she hands me a large piece
of cellophane which
I carefully place
across my face

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