Intervention (for Ray)
My daughter has her own space
in the basement of our home.
The wife and I are not snoops.
Our parents were
and it only made us more clever
But the cat was screaming murder
and we had to go down.
It wasn’t the dildo
on the bedside table,
or the baggie of pot
beside it, (it smelled like shit
it was the D.H. Lawrence
that concerned us.
The cat too.

I knew a girl whose dad was a dildo. Her mom was a woman, the dildo was a literal dildo from an adult bookstore. She was born anyway.

The dildo smelled like shit too. And the girl had no scent at all. A guy I know said he was with her one time and she didn't smell like anything down there.

What was the original context of this poem? You mean Ray Stevens' 1980s song, The Day the Beaver Was Seen in Church?

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