The Horror of Having Hips

The orgasm is like the heart of the atrichoke.
It's soft and warm and sometimes steams escapes when you bite into it.
Like the heart of the artichoke, the orgasm is
the only goal (though you'll never tell) and there are
a few monotonous tasks one must complete before one gets to the heart.
They're sharp and they hurt, but sometimes, these tasks are tasty.

Sometimes, we buy orgasms like we buy artichokes-
wearing tight blue jeans that flatten our stomachs and flatter our hips.
Maybe it isn't the heart of the artichoke at all that is so delicious,
maybe it's the tugging off of every single leaf.

Perhaps if we never had to undress the heart,
we would never have learned to appreciate it.