Valerie

In the poorly lit waiting room, Valerie dear,

Of the 9th precinct, down in the basement,

Your last words still echo and ring in my ear,

As I give the detective my statement.

♥

“You look hungry,” you’d greeted me, glint in your eye,

All but nude, save for shoes, at your door,

“I could eat,” I replied, diving headlong, I

Started lap-snacking right there on the floor.

♥

A-yodeling deep in your gully, my mind

Drifted back to the last time I’d eaten.

The stale Peanut Chew in that ashtray defined

For me, such a delectable treat then.

♥

‘Round my head, feeling your quaking thighs tighten,

Twixt nethers so gently, I pulsed.

“So far, so good,” thought I, my sense of pride heightened,

I loved how you thrashed and convulsed.

♥

But when next I glanced up, I was puzzled to see you

Assailing yourself with an Epi-Pen.

‘Twas precisely that instant, beloved, I knew

How both of us teemed with adrenaline.

♥

Resolute, I returned to the task I had started,

Urged on by your whooping and wailing,

“Don’t stop!” the choked, swollen command you imparted,

Deciphered though seizing and flailing.

♥

Wearied, I watched as your windpipe constricted.

Oh, would that I could have been, Valerie,

More considerate of (just a lick) those afflicted

With clearly severe peanut allergies.