itch [Poem] by Ben Newell

Hot blonde in a sundress
[big tits, no bra]
approaches the reference desk. 

“Can I have some of that hand sanitizer?”
she asks. 

“Of course,” I say.
“That’s what it’s for . . .”

She pumps
a liberal amount into her hand
then applies it to her ankle—

“Mosquito bite,” she says.  “This stuff takes care
of the itch . . .”

Some 20 minutes later
I go on break,
slip into the restroom
and take care of mine. 

Published by mistyrampart

Freelancer, poet, dreamer

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