After 3 months
of captivity
the Jivaroan tribe
released my husband
who was a National Geographic
scribe.
They shipped him home
from South America
in a ceremonial hat box.
Unfortunately he was missing
both feet
and his mother's knitted sox
but wait,
that's not all,
I became a nervous wreck.
My husband, you see,
had nothing else
below his neck.
Naturally I wondered
if our love life
was actually dead.
He would be doomed
forever
as a shrunken head.
This story continues
quite happily
so don't cry for me.
My shrunken head husband
is still
sexually free.
He crawls up
into our bed
with his serpent's tongue
until my sweet bell
of ecstasy
has been rung.
Then he demurely
whispers
for a lullaby
as we collapse
into each other
with a lover's sigh!
Life can never
be normal
if you're a shrunken head
so we try to adapt
where this life
has led.
When we drive in the car
so he won't
be ignored
I give him
a good view
from the dashboard.
Up in the highchair
if that's how
he feels
my husband spits out
all
of my bad meals.
Our kids use their dad
in practice
as a socer ball.
The dogs licks his face
before
nature's call.
If the Smiths
come over
for poker night
the way he holds
the cards in his mouth
is quite a sight.
Bocce ball with the neighbors
is no longer
a yawn
as my husband
rolls wildly
all over the lawn.
Now it's time
to do something
with his shrunken hair
so I suggest a visit to,
an old haunt,
the barber's chair
although his memory
surely points
to the obvious sign
that he misses the perk
of the free
shoe shine.
From one shrink
to another
he lays on the psychiatrist's couch
and from those healing visits
I can gladly
vouch
he is still my shrunken head lover ,
a husband
and a dad
who is now giving me
the best orgasms
I've ever had!
******************************************************
of captivity
the Jivaroan tribe
released my husband
who was a National Geographic
scribe.
They shipped him home
from South America
in a ceremonial hat box.
Unfortunately he was missing
both feet
and his mother's knitted sox
but wait,
that's not all,
I became a nervous wreck.
My husband, you see,
had nothing else
below his neck.
Naturally I wondered
if our love life
was actually dead.
He would be doomed
forever
as a shrunken head.
This story continues
quite happily
so don't cry for me.
My shrunken head husband
is still
sexually free.
He crawls up
into our bed
with his serpent's tongue
until my sweet bell
of ecstasy
has been rung.
Then he demurely
whispers
for a lullaby
as we collapse
into each other
with a lover's sigh!
Life can never
be normal
if you're a shrunken head
so we try to adapt
where this life
has led.
When we drive in the car
so he won't
be ignored
I give him
a good view
from the dashboard.
Up in the highchair
if that's how
he feels
my husband spits out
all
of my bad meals.
Our kids use their dad
in practice
as a socer ball.
The dogs licks his face
before
nature's call.
If the Smiths
come over
for poker night
the way he holds
the cards in his mouth
is quite a sight.
Bocce ball with the neighbors
is no longer
a yawn
as my husband
rolls wildly
all over the lawn.
Now it's time
to do something
with his shrunken hair
so I suggest a visit to,
an old haunt,
the barber's chair
although his memory
surely points
to the obvious sign
that he misses the perk
of the free
shoe shine.
From one shrink
to another
he lays on the psychiatrist's couch
and from those healing visits
I can gladly
vouch
he is still my shrunken head lover ,
a husband
and a dad
who is now giving me
the best orgasms
I've ever had!
******************************************************