the massage

so, we have you down
for a deep tissue massage
at four, is that right?
right, you say over the phone.
deep tissue. i'm really sore
and need a great massage.
good, she says. well, we
have corky and Amanda.
both are available
at four o'clock.
Amanda, you say quickly.
okay, but corky is really
good at deep tissue.
he really knows how
to get into those knots.
Amanda, you say again
without hesitation. sure,
she says. see you at four.
Amanda leads you into
the darkened room full
of incense and music.
bongos beat gently like
rain drops in a tropical
forest, and mandolins strum
softly in the shadowy enclave.
you strip down
into your bvds, tossing
your clothes on the floor.
she comes back in, rubbing oils
into her hands. smiling
blissfully as you lie
there beneath the cool sheets.
she is slight and angular,
hardly any weight to her
at all. harder you say,
as she kneads her tiny
hands into your shoulders
and back. harder? she says.
yes. I can hardly feel
it. okay, she says, leaning
up onto the table,
pushing her elbows into
your neck. harder? yes, please
you say. okay, she says,
jumping onto the table,
rubbing her heels into
your spine, how's that.
ummm. okay, I guess. I still
have a really sore spot
that you aren't reaching.
she hops down and grabs
a small baseball bat
from under the table
then hops back up.
she begins to strike you
with the bat,
how's that she says.
perfect you say, and
slowly slip into a daze
as she pounds out the
muscles. pffft. who
needs corky.