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Rated: Mature
Written for a poetry course assignment to base a poem on one of the classes we were currently enrolled in. That semester I was taking Sociology: Deviant Behavior. This was the result:

Sexual deviance.
This sure as hell isn’t a boring day.
Topics on the table: porn and prostitution;
solid definitions elude us,
the grayness of human nature.

We laugh to relieve the awkwardness,
although I enjoy the frank candor.
Strangely none of the words are foreign,
mostly “-ilias” and “-isms:”
necrophilia, pedophilia, sadochism, masochism, fetishism—
words taboo in polite conversation.

Whispered comments throughout class
circle bizarre information.
Across the room I hear whispered:
“What’s polyamory?”

Friend of a friend got $100 simply for
letting a man draw math equations on her back;
I think of my tattoo artist’s story—
a girl’s back covered in “connect-the-dots”
for her boyfriend’s doodling.

Elle considered selling used panties,
they go for $50 apiece, so she says.
Laws about obscenity: “no pubic hair.”
Elle— “That doesn’t seem to be a problem these days,”
we look at her suspiciously; she adds,
“Or so I hear.”

Posted for @HeideeLahree, who's taking a sexualities class this term and has been tweeting about it.