At the strip club in Lincoln, Nebraska, she said, "I'm the Princess of Shalimar." Doubtless, I thought, at a loss for words but not images, the air moist but without the promise of a rain. She's not bending pinkly like a pretzel but a body. At this age, my first bona fide royalty. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE FEAST OF LIGHTS by EMMA LAZARUS TO A SCREEN-MAKER by MARIANNE MOORE THE HAWK by WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS ON THE ROAD TO CHORRERA by ARLO BATES A WAR SONG TO ENGLISHMEN by WILLIAM BLAKE THE VIRGIN MARY TO THE CHILD JESUS by ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING |