tuition

grab 'em by the balls
sweet miss
you tell 'em where to go
and maybe just maybe
they might
your dirty dress
does not make you smile
nor do thoughts of where you've been
nor do the buzzings
of queen bees
as she kills off the hive's
young men
with drool flung high
and spittle drops
to concrete pleasures
that never once were
inside your dirty dress
with flowers
grown up from dirt
to bloom in lustfull suns
with rain kissing tongues
of little boys with pocket change
and full of brass
and poignant revelry
about battlefields
and battleships
that never once will cross thier minds
as they pull up
down comforters inside
a reality not afforded
to their violations
good night