Trip to the Zoo

My girlfriend likes to flirt with
the gorillas. She’s pretty
sure I’m watching while entranced
by the giraffe’s foot-long tongue
snaking lettuce from my hand.
He has a lecherous grin.
The giraffe. The gorillas
try to ignore the constant
litany of "hey big boy,
look at me," and turn their backs,
but not their heads. I’m pretty
sure they’re peeking. I would be.
As she turns away, one leaps
to his feet and pounds his chest.
When we laugh, he turns away.
I want her to try her charms
on the mandrill sulking
in the corner of his cage.
He looks as blank as he can
with a pink nose and purple
cheeks. I’m sure she can coax him
into the strut that shows off
parallel colors hanging
behind. I’m feeling lucky.