Poetry
Give Me a Counselor
Shane Allison
Make him young & beautiful.
Give him eyes of ocean green
And an ass of steel.
Make him soft & sensitive.
Make him understand my plight.
Make him sympathetic.
Make him gift me with hugs
& Antidepressants.
I'm crossing my fingers for candlelight dinners.
Make him pick me up in
a Ford Expedition with cream-colored seats.
Break that thing they call counselor-client privilege
Make him pick up the tab of his seven beers
To only two of my Martinis.
Make me the designated driver
With designated keys to his hunter green ranger.
Give me a counselor & make him fat with handles of love.
Give him delicious lips for kissing.
Make my counselor a virgin.
Fill his stomach with mouthfuls of romance.
I want permission slips for unprescribed drugs.
Give him itching, burning sensations of love.
Love like a drug.
Color him with intelligence
And stay within the lines.
But don't make him nosey.
I know what he's writing on that pad
That rests on his denim knee.
Don't make him give a damn too much.
I can't take him invading my space
Calling me at sick hours of the night,
leaving notes under my door.
I won't tolerate sadistic messages
left on my answering machine.
There's no time for fatal attractions.
Don't make him a woman 'cause women
Can't get me hard.
Women can't be apart of my circle jerk of secrets.
They're not invited to this jack-off party of whispers.
Those women of mini-van tits
Women of raspberry berets
Run away in your chased skirt.
She makes my dick go down.
Make me a counselor out of puppy dog tails,
Car tires & barbed wire
Sugar & spice with just a pinch of lemon.
Tie him with a bow.
Leave him at my door in Priority Mail.
I'll call you later, telling you all the juicy details.