The verse-salon

Open the verse-salon with hands,
A Massage table, elephant comes
You with stiletto needles caress
And fondle him between the games.

You will be massaging his feet
The blood will boil, and he will scream,
Into the universe of the mind
From massage table he will run.

For elephant cows - an anthropod
After all, we must please them too!
So you'll become universal!
The salon'll take a pedestal!

Thus let the poet simply please
And these, and those, and those and these,
In joyful pleasures all around
Let all us hear a small verse laugh!