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"Just lie there still
Like a sack of potatoes."
Fragments of sound from a smile.
Surely these recited utterances had meaning
Her first time.
A sack of potatoes, I lay.
Obedient. Naked. Marked. Numbered.
For the best. They do care. They must.
Indigo stripes shamelessly violate
The buttocks. Hip. Back.
Crosshairs tatooed for the gun
To be aimed at naive potatoes.
Do the white-jacketed figures feel?
Gathered at the screen. Pointing. Scheming.
Dutifully murmuring about millimeters and degrees.
A hand, human, touches my shoulder
Grants permission to rise, dress.
"We'll see you Tuesday."
A voice. More recited utterances.
"Don't forget free valet with validation"
I emerge. Delivered.
Breathe.
Think.
Pray.
Gaze skyward.
No longer a sack of potatoes.
The morning mirror insists still
That I am.