is this body rent-controlled?

After a weekend workshop where I bathed in body-talk, body-language, the discourse of body,
I wake up Monday morning and wonder:

how lived in is this body /
how to find comfort and sexiness within the curdles

and

how many windows are in this body

document the scratches and dents
search for mouse droppings and facial tics

if my body is a project,
diorama this body
papier mache this body
war point lanyard water color this body.

*
summertime flirts outside my window
I curve my eyes toward undraped apartments where woman leans over sink
where shirtless man waters plant on sill
where poet peeps the world one mailbox at a time

how to put a call out for deep tissue loving

my veins are in need of an orgasm
where every clot of blood bursts

leave my genitals alone!

lick everything but that (please)

how necessary is pleasure

[can you tell me how to get it back?]

*