BETWEEN MEALS SONG

I want to gnaw your ankles,

Root behind your knees,

Nip your bended elbows,

Browse your forehead, please.

Oh, let’s make love and supper with-

Out washing off our hands.

Eat prairie oysters, turkey breasts and

Other sav’ry glands.

Let’s make love and supper with-

Out washing off our hands.

I want to wrinkle your neck’s nape

And stretch out your back’s small.

Go “This little piggy” on your toes

And darling that ain’t all.

I want to heft your two prize calves

And play like you’re a farm

And I’m the farmer and my house is

Underneath your arm.

I’ll cultivate your collarbone,

Achilles’ tendon, palm

And ears inside and out and lobes

And hair on end or calm.

I like your eyelids and your hip

And relatives and friends.

Your navel is a constant source

As are your finger ends.

The bottoms of your feet rate high

Before and after bath;

I want to reckon on your ribs

Whenever I do math.

I’m taken by your vertebrae

And back behind your ears,

Your adam’s apple, temples and

Most of your ideas.

Oh, let’s make love and supper with-

Out washing off our hands.

Eat prairie oysters, turkey breasts and

Other sav’ry glands.

Let’s make love and supper with-

Out washing off our hands.