IN PRAISE OF GIRLIE MAGAZINES (OR HOW I LEARNED TO READ)

When I was just a middle schooler

I couldn’t read and write so well;

My parents thought I was a drooler

Until one day in our motel

They sent me out to do room cleaning;

And as I did I found while leaning

Under a bed a Playboy stash

And saw the model’s naked gash.

So after ogling her picture

I tried to read her interview

But didn’t have the slightest clue.

Till I remembered teacher’s stricture:

“That’s what the dictionary’s for.”

So kept them in my bedside drawer.