Bodies gyrating
And undulating
Flesh upon flesh
Clasping and grasping
And grabbing, and groping
Watchers staring, and swearing
And gasping, and gaping –
She is just a piece of meat to him
A collection of orifices
To stick his bills in
And maybe more –

Writhing and sliding, and grinding
The pole –
Teasing, and pleasing, releasing
The folds…
Bared shoulder; she winks
He watches, he drinks.
Eyes low and languid
Legs crossed in anguish
His eyes plead with secret beggings
He stuffs notes into her leggings
She is just tonight’s show to him
The plot unfolds and unravels
With the titular character
In this play called “Meat.”

She sheds the last shreds;
What remains of her dignity
Falls to the ground
And collects around her feet.
The catcall cries,
The lustreless eyes
Are all centered on her;
On her gyrating nothingness,
On her bared soul…
In the half-light she dances
Casts suggestive glances
On a table, on a lap,
She can make it clap
As the plot – around her – unravels
The drool could be pooled in barrels
Upon barrels, of depravity.
Now, up close
He can see grains ’round her nose…
As she sells her merchandise
An empty soul, vacant eyes
Promise untold measures
Of pleasure…

And she is just an empty vessel
Willing, or unwilling vassal
Just a collection of orifices.
Her secrets, once uncovered
And – perhaps – played with
Soon bore her fickle audience
Who demand ever to see more
Till there’s no more to be seen…

Then she’s replaced in the shop window
Gnawed and mangled, spoiled and beat
By another, fresher piece
Of meat.