A Busboy and His Waitress

At work I watch you prance around,
Pursued by lustful patron's eyes.
As I bus tables you surround
In my mind my face with your thighs.
Your nipples push your T-shirt's cloth,
And I restrain an urge to slosh
Some water on them, risk your wrath
To make them show their reddish wash
Through clinging half-transparent shirt.
A subtle V-shaped ridge defines
Your panties' arc around your pert,
curvaceous rear; suggestive lines
That meet where, safe between your legs
That hollow place patiently waits
While you wade through the kitchen's dregs
For that which will in filling sate
Your urge, you eager beaver, when
We're free from this financial hell,
Our dollars in our pockets. Then
We can discard our pants and smell
Each other's musky scents pent up
So long in sexless uniforms;
To sate our hunger we each can sup
On the other's fluids, passion warmed.

By Jason Paul Fox

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poem written by JASON PAUL FOX.
You MUST credit my authorship when reproducing this poem in any way!
Creative Commons License
Violators are prosecuted, no joke!
I'm living off the generosity of plagiarists now!
(It's OK to give my poem to friends or people at school, if you credit me and don't make money off it)

copyright 2007 Jason Paul Fox