talking intellectual
freedom with a bare assed girl
before i can get a word out
there’s a picture of her bare ass
on my work computer screen
she says it’s for her boyfriend
he’s been in prison for a year
he’s been missing this, she says
and i can obviously see why
…but mam, is all i can get out
what? she says
i’m not embarrassed by it
it’s not that, i tell her
this can get me in deep shit here
i thought you were printing out a resume, i say
i still am, she tells me
as the two of us stare at her bare ass
it’s one of those self-pictures
fresh out of the shower
the side of her face and her toned back
then down to her wonderfully youthful ass
if i were her and her age
i probably wouldn’t be embarrassed either
i’d walk around brooklyn naked on sundays
i can’t print that for you, i tell her
she still doesn’t understand why not
but she minimizes the photo
much to the chagrin of the teen boy
who’d been standing behind us the whole time
you’re just scared, she says
tell you what
i’ll print the other pictures for you, i say
we get the one of her in her tight burgundy mini
the one of her in a puerto rican flag bikini
and the close-up shot of her mugging for the camera
all in full page black and white
do you think that’ll hold him off
until he gets out? i ask
i hope, she says
he’s out in twenty-five days
one can only imagine what he’s going to do
to that bare ass once he’s back on the outside
when i give the photo prints to her
she smiles and folds them up into an envelope
like the dutiful girlfriend
he’s really going to love these, she says
then she frowns
are you sure you can’t print that picture
of my bare ass?
as much as i’d love to, i tell her
i think i understand now, she says
then you understand america, i tell her
she shrugs and walks away
licking the envelope
the cloth covering her rear end
a mere formality between us now
the two of us having forgotten
all about that resume of hers.
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