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NO EXPERIMENTS ON THIS TEMPLE!

So what I eat junk food,
and prefer a tall milkshake
in a cold, clean glass instead of the
acidic healthfulness of orange juice?
And yes, I\’ve been known to pass up a bowl
of lumpy oatmeal for French-fried potatoes,
seasoned with relish, on the side of fried blue fish…
Yes, I said “fried”!
my temple is mine,
and my actions don\’t mean
I don\’t worship this place around which
my aura hovers, and my soul calls “home”.


Believe me baby,
this is not a lab in which
you can try not to don a mad-scientist overcoat
and force me to let you conduct salacious experiments
to satisfy your sexual curiosity or
boost your oppression-beaten ego,
-- one or both.
your (alternatively aroused) wishes
makes a woman like me have to question my values
after just standing near you.


Your boy told you that how “powerful” he felt
making her (or him) -- one or both --
bend and take him in every which way,
that he got so excited that his “love taps”
stung his palms \’til the other party in the room
become more a victim than a lover,
and the euphoria hit in a manner never felt
from one-on-one consummation.


Well, sweetheart, dig this-- I am not the one!
Take your devilry to some non-believer because
my temple was crafted by the divine
not to be guinea-pig for your depravity.
Doing compulsory side bends, yoga poses
and other licentious exercises with
third or fourth parties, because you want
girl-on-girl-on-girl-on-girl-on-you action
is not a scene I intend to enact
in the movie script of my life.


Don\’t get too cozy thinking you have
full license to cajole me into
making my exit holes
into your entrances.
because I need you to consider me for a second,
since the temple you seek to enter is mine.
if you have to ask more than once
and the answer is always a resounding “no!” --
if you have to bring me chocolate candy kisses
molded in the positions too decadent to be
shown in the kama sutra and
the answer is still “no!” --
if you have to beg me
sixty-nine ways to Sunday and
I am still telling you
“nah, brotha, my interest isn\’t roused” --
understand that you are losing me,
because I refuse to compete
in the museum of your sexual oddities.


Brotha, why does it have to be science fair
in order for me to have a place in your love-life?
What\’s so wrong with a little convention
where you give reverence to my need to
respect myself when I look at me?


So, in the interest of my self-preservation,
why don\’t you just put your garments back on and
back the hell away from my temple.

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