“The aphrodisiac
squid”—Sylvia Plath,
“Gigolo,” Collected Poems

Sugar daddies—know me well
The streets—so lizardly tonight
Scaly skin—extra-tight pants
We meet in—a cul-de-sac

Black velvet—cheap portraits
Grace—motel moderne walls
Thank god—for ersatz décor
No sickening family—photos

They pull—my gold tit-ring
It feels—like a sharp fish-hook
I smile—cool as Cleopatra
Where’s my Asp, honey?

Jellyfish Jell-O—squishes
In the shower—afterwards
They play—the sad victim game
How their wives—don’t put out

Their lips—move silently
My aphrodisiacal—squid squirms
Down their throat—oysters flow
I’m just a jailbait—gigolo

I notice—their gold rings
Their fat billfolds—their toupees
The way they—slide off onto
The plush—cheap carpet

Tattle-tale—they give it away
Their sleek new Cadillacs—in the
Empty parking lot—their wives
Kids—back in Poughkeepsie

Gluttons for—mother of pearl
My groin—never grows old
Sargasso Sea—in my shorts
Jetsam Boy—of Fontainebleau

Grateful—they ensconce me
In their—Fifth Avenue penthouses
We take strolls—in Central Park
Surely, my dear—marriage next?

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