Snake Oil by Kenneth Gurney

In ripping her pants off
I felt an entire zoological center
enter my beer-tap veins
or an asylum for old trolls
vanquished by billy goats
now taxidermy museum pieces.
 
She spoke whimsically
about understanding how buttons
flummox the best doctoral candidates
but often raises the flag up the pole
in a patriotic fondling 
of tattoos and lace and homeopathic cures
touted from yesteryear’s repositories
of artifice and snake oil.
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