The graduate student took the stage

With her learned limbs.

 

Recipient of good genes  and a good education,

She amused and moved the males

With her smart-talk, black haired shining beauty

And her flippant dance and strip.

 

Keeping to the formula, 

Her breasts eyed us at the first song’s end.

And that’s when the farm-boy,

A Brom Bones of Wisconsin corn,

Surrounded by his gawking disciples, 

Began to act.

“Do you believe in God?

 

The graduate student opted to ignore.

And by the second's song’s end,

Her all-around beauty was confirmed.

But his revelation did not cause

Farm-boy to desist.

(Louder) “Do you believe in God?”

 

Finally  -

She stopped her dance and queried the audience:

“How many of you guys believe in God

And who the hell cares?”

 

She danced to the third song

With the breasts and limbs of youth,

Bestowing a smile with each smart-ass quip.

And she was beautiful and timeless.

She was.

But this revelation did not 

Cause Farm-boy to desist.

(Louder) “Do you believe in God, Cunt?”

​

She stopped the dance.

She turned off the turntable.

She walked over to the stage’s end.

She bent and politely borrowed a customer’s water.

Standing straight, oh-so-straight,

Bare, in spiked black heels,

With legs apart and back arched,

She hovered over her Inquisitor’s table

And decanted the pure liquid

Over his shocked cock.

 

He and his disciples witnessed the baptism to the words,

“Why don’t you get your shit together?”

They left in muttered pain.

The goddess went back to work.

 

                                                                                      -   Jeffrey Eisenmesser, undated