You own me and you know it. I sit here waiting for you. My heart pounds as I spot you approaching. It's nothing I can control. You smile and I turn to Tapioca. I tremble as our palms touch in handshake. You sit next to me and a moment of silence passes.
Then comes the request. It's never the same, spoken politely, but firmly.
Bring me a swan.
Write a non rhyming poem about an exotic bird.
I want a family of Japanese tourists.
Mold me an ash tray.
Knit me a potholder.
Smell one of your body parts.
Recite a long recipe.
Bring me a ferret.
Speak fluently in Tagalog.
Rent me a masseuse.
Curl into a fetal position and sob.
Tie six complex knots in one minute.
Look under that woman's dress.
I am helpless within your whims.
Especially the one where I must shave down there.
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