She Wanted to be Hostess

She wanted to be hostess, of the mostess.

She was capacious, in giving, almost a doll, to be clutched, in a hand, if the setting was a mall.

A Mall.

Not a grove, not a grotto, not a blotto, not an ink stain, or a cacophony refrain.

She stood in Mannahattas,

She knew Ghislaine.

She loved Ghislaine’s English accent.

It wasn’t naughty when Ghislaine, master masseur, noted a longing in the loins, unlocked, as poetential.

Not to give a baby, because there are too many of those, or relief funds, because Britain and the U.S.A. are stingy.