I turn away from my co-workers and firmly press
against the edge of my desk . . . a fine substitute
for taking myself into my palm.
Yes. The splendor of having an erection @ the office.
Turning toward my co-workers
I conceal myself & mash against the back of my chair
. . . concealing myself . . .
presenting myself professionally & appropriately
I think the Employee Handbook does state:
Commandment #14 For males:
on the occasion when you have a horn,
stand squarely & discretely behind your chair
until such time as it is safe for you to move
freely about the workplace, inert and unencumbered.
Do not make contact with the chair, for that will
exacerbate the calamity.
I comply, somewhat
Yes.The fiery grandeur of having an erection @ the office.
I consider how it’d look, resting on my desktop like
an astute iguana, soaking in the fluorescent light
that spreads and touches everything from the receptionist
to the breakroom.
Oh! How it would tingle to caress my horn against
the several fabrics in my cubicle, sampling each one . . .
tarrying on this one and that, one feels best against
the shaft, the other against the cap.
And what intoxication my horn shall find whilst properly
sheathed in Margaret’s shoe . . .
warm and freshly peeled from her foot when Sodom’s gongs
strike 5; Margaret’s yellow Kenneth Cole mules hold that
short-lived fragrance tantamount to catnip for a kitten.
My horn shall snoop it out, and find it deep in her
toebox . . . imbibe . . . feeling mellow, knocked out,
stoned, getting high . . . feeling GOOD!
(One bourbon, one scotch, and . . . and you know the rest)
Before I can pour forth and sanctify Margaret’s shoe,
a fellow Sodomite wakes me. Angrily he shouts,
“HEY! You’re glowin’ like you got a horn or somethin’ over there!”
He says, “Go splash some water on that thing and
come help me get these friggin’ reports out!”
I comply, somewhat
In spite of the Employee Handbook’s directive,
I go to the restroom where I rest my astute iguana
against the cool porcelain sink, and flick soothing
droplets of water onto it . . . feeding it before
inappropriately smothering it in handfuls of cold,
cold water. But it’ll be back, and soon enough.
Ah! Yes. ‘Tis is a blessed thing to have a horn @ the office.
Oz Devilhorse all rights reserved.
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