She casts an eye on the luxuriant zone
Reviewing it with a condescending mask
She asks me : Are you married?
I ponder: what’s that got to do with marriage
She ignores my thoughts
And declares with an authority: There is more down here than on your head!
I wanted to yell: Why don’t you go ahead and thrust that scalpel as it is
Instead I, submissive like a tame sheep, let her shear my jungle
There goes the covering of my shame
Ah! The indecencies of undergoing an operation
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