LITTLE VISITOR

"I want to do you from behind," she said.

"Please don't do me from behind," I said.

"Oh, it's gonna happen," she told me, "When you least expect it, look behind you, and I'll be doing it. I'll be doing you."

"But� why?" I replied, "And how? And when?"

"When you least expect it," she described, "How should I know when that is?"

"So how will you know?"

"Oh," she grinned, "I'll know."

So now, I'm waiting, worrying, anticipating, agonizing this future turn of events.

I sit in my apartment alone, unable to answer my phone, my door, my email or my friends as they call out from my window.

I don't know when she'll be coming back, to make good on her promise.

I do not want to be compromised so. It is better this way.

I don't even know how she's gonna do it, and for the life of me, I don't want to.

No forks shall be stuck in me.

I don't want to be done � from behind or even the front.

That would be no fun.

The only way to stay free is to keep all threats away from me.